From Nothing, Comes Everything
by TheLittlestRaindrop
Summary: After being forced into a marriage by your parents at a young age, your life hasn't turned out quite the way you'd expected it to. With a husband who hates you, and not a single friend to speak of, life for you is a miserable state of being. That is, until it is turned around by tragedy.
1. Initial Meeting

Sometimes, you really hate the way the world is.

Ever since birth, your whole life has been mapped out for you. As the eldest daughter of a wealthy man, your entire purpose in life is to marry a man as rich as your father, and carry on his lineage. So far, half of that purpose has been fulfilled, as in your twentieth year you were married off to a man by the name of James Scottington. Your husband runs a successful import and shipping business, though you're unsure of the exact details. Your husband outright refuses to share any details with you, saying that such things would only 'scramble the fragile female brain'. He treats you less like a wife and more like an inconvenience.

In the two years since your wedding, he's done nothing to help you fall in love with him. The first week after your wedding, he'd taken you to bed every night, determined to get you with child as quickly as possible. When that week had ended in the arrival of your menses, he'd been livid, saying that you'd failed him as a wife already. Still, he'd been willing to write the incident off as an unfortunate failure.

As soon as your cycle had ended, he'd all but dragged you into the bedroom to try again. Day in day out he'd tried you get you with child, but to no avail; your menses came yet again.

For an entire year, he'd kept on trying, desperate for an heir. Despite all if his efforts, he failed. He was beyond furious with you. He began to demand a divorce, saying that he wanted to be rid of his 'faulty' wife. However, failure to produce children doesn't count as reasonable grounds for divorce, and so he'd been promptly shoved out of the solicitor's office. He'd taken his frustration out on you, beating you to within an inch of your life. When questioned by your family physician, you'd lied, and told him you took a tumble down the stairs. The physician seemed sceptical, but she wasn't in a position to question you. After all, it's only a criminal matter if the victim is brave enough to press charges.

The next year had been much easier on you. Your husband has all but given hope of conceiving a child with you, and as such only imposes on you for sexual intercourse once a month. He's even kicked you out of the main bedroom, allowing you to take one of the guest rooms as your own. However, he hasn't done that out of kindness. He's done it so that he can bring random women back to the manor and have his way with them in peace. Yep. For at least a year now he's been cheating on you, seemingly with a new woman every week. If you'd married James for love, you'd be heartbroken, but as it is you can't bring yourself to care. He's welcome to whatever woman he likes, so long as he doesn't injure you again. Maybe he'll end up knocking one of them up. Maybe that's his goal. Get one up the spout, then we'll pass it off as our own. After all, he wouldn't want to have an illegitimate child. Or maybe that'll be grounds enough for divorce. Then you'll be shipped off back to your family home, if they'd even be willing to take in a divorcee. You hate to think about all the shame you've brought down upon your family by failing your only real purpose…

You try to bring your thoughts back to your current situation.

Currently, you're wandering the streets of London, looking for a specific shop.

This morning, you'd received a letter from your elder brother Edmund, informing you of a family tragedy.

The letter had read;

 _Dearest Sister,_

 _It pains me to tell you this via letter, but I fear things here are far too busy to warrant me paying you a visit. Our dearest mother, whom we both adore, sadly lost her ongoing battle with illness on the thirtieth of June, 1888. Her passing was peaceful, as it occurred in her sleep. I myself discovered her body the next morning. I'm sorry you weren't made aware of her deteriorating condition sooner, but I didn't want to impose on you. Yet now, I fear that I must do just that._

 _Busy as I am, I cannot make any arrangements for her burial. Therefore, I would ask you to act on behalf of our family, and make the arrangements for us. I shall finance the entire affair, so you need not worry about paying for it. You see to it that she gets the best send off possible, and I'll see to it that the relevant parties are suitably compensated for their effort._

 _I have enclosed within this letter a copy of Mother's body measurements, as I've no doubt The Undertaker shall need them. Speaking of which, I've also enclosed the address of the finest undertaker in all of London. I suggest paying him a visit before you do anything else._

 _Again, I apologise. This all must come as quite a shock. Still, stiff upper lip, eh? It's what she would have wanted._

 _All the best,_

 _Edmund_

His letter was unexpected, but not entirely surprising. You'd long suspected that your mother didn't have long left. At least now, she might be able to find peace…

You'd taken Edmund's advice, and header straight to the undertaker. He was a horrible man, with greasy hair and a crooked smile. He'd spent the whole of your conversation staring at your cleavage, paying very little attention to your words. As soon as he'd finished talking, he'd agreed to see to your mother all right… on the condition you let him have his way with you! You'd stormed out of there immediately. Honestly, if he's London's best, then you'd hate to see its worst!

You may well end up doing just that at this rate. After your unfortunate episode with London's Finest Creep, you'd taken it upon yourself to visit several shops in town, and ask if anyone knew of another undertaker. Most people seemed totally clueless, all of them wanting to know what was wrong with the very best. You'd tried to play it off as mere curiosity, not wanting to destroy the man's reputation.

You'd all but given up hope of finding another undertaker, until your salvation had come in a form you didn't expect; a small boy, with a mysterious-looking butler. Upon enquiring about an undertaker in a local toy shop, one of the customers (the butler), had tapped you on the shoulder and given you an address. The small boy had explained that although the undertaker he'd suggested is brilliant, he's very… eccentric. Still, the lad had reassured you that this undertaker was trustworthy, and that's good enough a recommendation for you. After all, children tend to be better judges of character than adults. You'd thanked the boy, and set off to find the address he'd given you.

That was half an hour ago, and you're slowly beginning to give up hope. That is, until you spot a slightly crooked sign above a door. The sign reads 'Undertaker'. Well, that's a good sign.

You apprehensively enter the building, hoping that the proprietor is nicer than the last one you visited.

The shop is a little bigger than it appears from the outside, though not by much. The walls are lined with many fine-looking coffins, as well as a few decorative oddments. There's a desk of sorts at the back of the room, behind which sits a peculiar-looking man.

The man appears to be wearing all black, with the exception of a long grey sash across his torso. He has a hat perched atop his head, and his eyes are covered up by his long, silver fringe. You wonder how he can see what he's writing with his hair all in his eyes like that.

You see his mouth curve up into a smile as his head moves up to face you, acknowledging your presence. 'Good afternoon, Miss. After one of me coffins, are you? Take a seat, and we'll talk about it.' He gestures to a bench just in front of his desk. You take a seat, trying to act as demurely as possible, all the while trying to hide your nerves. After your meeting with the other undertaker, you're concerned he'll try to do something similar…

Still, he's really your only other option at this point. You should at least give him a chance. 'Thank you, Mr…?' knowing his name might put you at ease a bit.

He smiles again. 'Just call me The Undertaker, me dear, everyone else does. Would you like a cuppa? I'm going to have to ask you a few delicate questions, and I find nothing puts people at ease more than a cuppa!' Well, he seems a lot nicer than the last man so far, at least. Still, best to keep your guard up. This could all be an act for all you know.

'No thank you, Mr Undertaker. At this point, I'm still looking into several other possibilities. I was just curious what kind of prices you charge, and I wanted to examine the quality of your work, too. No need for an extended conversation.' That may sound cold, but hopefully your professionalism will get him to take you seriously, and deter him from acting inappropriately.

His smile falters a bit. 'I see, Miss. A word of advice if I may? Avoid the undertaker in the high street. I know he has a formidable reputation, but the man himself is less than reputable. I've seen many pretty young ladies such as yourself leave his shop in tears. Something to do with the way he expects women to pay him? He's a disgrace to the profession, if you ask me. We undertakers take pride in our work, and part of our jobs is to comfort the relatives of the deceased, not take advantage of them. If you don't find my work to your liking, I'll be more than willing to direct you to a competitor, so long as you don't go to him.' Oh, so the other undertaker has a reputation for treating women like he treated you? You wonder if your brother knows that…

You sigh heavily. 'I've already met him. Regrettably, I might add. He's just as unsavoury as you've heard, I assure you.' Your body convulses violently as you recall your interaction with the man.

Undertaker lets out a chuckle at your response. 'I see. Well, I can promise you I won't do anything of the sort. Total professionalism, that's what you get with me. Okay, maybe not total professionalism, but I won't try to take advantage of you. I might just try to make you laugh though, so watch out for that!' You can't help but smile. 'Ah, so she smiles, eh? A ray of sunshine in these dark times. I do so love to see a pretty smile. In fact, keep giving me smiles like that, and I'll make you a coffin for no money at all!' Is he serious? He'd really just give you one for nothing? He really must be after something!

Your smile fades slightly. 'That's okay, Mr Undertaker. My brother is the one paying for the funeral, not I. I'm really just here to deal with the specifics. Speaking of which, do you think you could make me a coffin with these measurements?' You hand him the paper with your mother's measurements.

Undertaker peruses them with great intent, before tilting his head up to face you again. 'That won't be a problem, but I thought you were looking at your options?' Oh, yeah. You did say that, didn't you? He must have made you forget that somehow…

You shrug. Not the most appropriate action for a lady, but one that fits the situation. 'So I did. I guess you won me over somehow.' The air seems to grow tense for a moment, as if there's something lingering in the air around you. You write it off as nerves, but it feels like something more. Like something you do not wish to think of…

Undertaker seems to notice it too, as his voice is a little different when he speaks again. 'I guess I did. It'll take a few days to create the bulk of the coffin, then we can discus an interior. What wood would you like it to be made from. Oh, and who am I burying? You didn't actually specify.' You didn't? That was a foolish oversight.

Time to rectify that, then. 'My mother. You're burying my mother. As for the wood, use the best that you have. I want her to have the best I can give her. If you write me out an invoice after the funeral, I give you my word that you'll be paid for your work. I'll see if I can arrange to give you a deposit when I next visit. Is that okay?' You really hope so. It seems as if you've actually found yourself a decent undertaker. You'd hate for your slightly unorthodox payment suggestion to ruin things.

Your words earn you a sympathetic smile. 'Don't start worrying about the Queen's Coins now, me dear. You've just lost your mum, after all. I'm sure you'll give me what I'm owed in due course. You seem an honest woman, and that's good enough for me. Let's just focus on giving your mum a good send off for now then, eh?' You're now certain you've made the right decision. You also want to find the little boy from before and buy him a chocolate bar. He couldn't have made a better recommendation!

You give Undertaker another huge smile. 'Thank you, Sir. I appreciate your kindness. Now, I do so hate to be rude, but I fear I must leave now. My husband is probably wondering where I am by now.' That's a lie. He probably doesn't care. You could stay out all night if you wanted to, and all he'd ask was if you'd done anything to give him grounds to divorce you. It's a very tempting thought…

Undertaker blushes slightly. 'Pardon me, my lady. I had no idea you were a married woman. May I take a name for my records before you leave?' You happily tell him your name. 'Ah, so it's Mrs Scottington. Hang on, you're not James Scottington's wife, are you?' You nod. 'Oh, dear. I'm sorry to hear that. No offence.' His blush gets even louder.

You can't stop the laugh that escapes your lips. 'That's okay, I'm sorry too. I'll see you in a few days, then?' You stand up, and make to leave, looking back at him for an answer when you reach the door.

He rushes over to you so he can open the door for you, almost stumbling over his robes as he does. 'I do hop so, me dear. Anyone with a laugh as beautiful as yours is welcome here anytime.' Now it's your turn to blush. No one has ever called to beautiful before…

You leave the shop before you can answer, saving yourself from giving him an embarrassing reply.

As you make your way home, your heart feels a tiny bit lighter than it did this morning. You're looking forward to speaking with the Undertaker again.

For purely professional reasons, of course.


	2. Unorthodox Proposals

Five days have passed since your first meeting with The Undertaker, and you're currently on your way back to his shop. You're somewhat nervous about returning so soon, although you try to put those feelings to bed. After all, it was him who said to return in a few days. Five definitely counts as a few, doesn't it?

Either way, you're almost there now, so it would be pointless turning back. You've also managed to get a deposit together for him, courtesy of your husband. Not that he'd been willing to hand it over at first, mind. When you'd first asked for it, he'd all but thrown you out of his study, scolding you for asking him for 'more than you deserve'. Never one to give up, you'd returned later on with a proposition for him. He'd almost laughed off your attempt to do such a thing, but you'd managed to blurt it out before he had the chance to forcibly remove you from his presence once again.

You'd proposed that he give you the money, in exchange for making yourself scarce once a week. He'd scoffed the idea, asking what he could possibly gain from such an agreement. 'Total privacy and freedom,' you'd told him, 'and we both know just how much you'll benefit from that.' He'd looked a little gobsmacked at first, which confused you. Did he really think you hadn't noticed his countless infidelities? Either way, he'd soon changed his tune, agreeing to give you a rather meagre deposit in exchange for you leaving home between the hours of Nine AM and Nine PM every Saturday for the rest of your married life. You'd felt rather smug leaving his office, although you really hadn't thought your idea through very well… just how are you supposed to entertain yourself away from home for twelve consecutive hours?! Ah, well. Now isn't the time to think about that; you've just arrived at the Undertaker's shop.

You walk straight in, just as you had last time. The shop is just as you remember it being, though why wouldn't it be? It's not as if The Undertaker would have rearranged anything in the few days since you last saw him. What a silly thought!

You begin to snoop around the shop, looking for its owner. When you can't see him, you call out for him. 'Mr Undertaker? It's me, Mrs Scottington. I've come about my mother's coffin.' You wait a few seconds, but get no reply. Odd. Maybe he isn't in? But then, why would his door be open if he's not home? You suddenly find yourself concerned for his welfare. What if he's had an accident? What if he's been taken ill unexpectedly? You decide that the best thing to do is search for him properly. After all, the worst he'll do if he's okay is yell at you and refuse to work for you any more. If you walk out on an injured man, you'd never be able to forgive yourself.

As he's clearly not in the shop, you decide to explore elsewhere. Specifically, through the door that leads into his living quarters. It's perfectly common for shopkeepers to live on-site, as it is both convenient and cost effective. A feeling of unease washes over you as you intrude on the privacy of a practically stranger, but you keep pushing on.

The door leads into a corridor, which has a few doors of its own. You try one at random, hoping to find the Undertaker. The door leads into a small kitchen, containing only the bare furnishing required to class it as such. A hob, a counter, a sink, a table… there's probably a pantry leading off from it somewhere, but you're not about to go snooping about trying to find it. You have a goal, after all. Speaking of which, your target doesn't seem to be in the kitchen. At least you can rule out him having fallen victim to a stove-related incident.

The next door you open is the bedroom. This room is even more utilitarian than the kitchen, as it only contains a bed. A rather large bed certainly, but it's still just the one bed. You can't even see any wardrobe space. Maybe he's one of those people who keeps their clothes under the bed? What a strange man…

You're straying from your mission again. Your eyes scan the room, looking for an occupant. The bed doesn't look slept in, and there's not a soul to be seen. It seems as if Undertaker isn't in here, either. That means he must be behind the next door.

Taking in a deep breath, you open the final door, not knowing what to expect. Then again, if you'd taken the time to think, maybe you'd have considered knocking first. After all, there is one room that most households have these days besides a kitchen and a bedroom…

A bathroom.

Your eyes scan the room, and immediately fall upon the Undertaker. You're relieved to see that he looks unharmed, and are about to comment as much when you take in his position. Sat down to be precise, with his robes pulled right up to his waist. You think it a curios way to sit, until the penny finally drops. He's sat down… in a bathroom… with his bare backside on a seat…

He's on the toilet. Dear God, he's on the toilet!

You try to stutter out a response, but find that words fail you completely. This might just be the single most embarrassing moment of your entire life. You turn tail and run back into the shop as quickly as you can, your face hot, and you eyes stinging with tears. That's not what you'd planned to see today! How are you supposed to look him in the eyes after that? You just saw him on the toilet, presumably doing more than just urinating (which you've been told men do whilst standing, but are unable to verify as you've never felt the urge to watch a man relieve himself in such a way). You should just leave, and pay him a visit another day.

Then again, won't that make returning here seem all the more awkward? Surely it's far better to confront the issue now, before it has the chance to worsen? The Undertaker seemed like a reasonable man the last time you spoke. Surely he'll be willing to accept an apology and move on? You were acting with his well-being in mind, after all. I'm sure he'll be glad when he hears of your good intentions. Then again, you know what they say about the road to Hell and all…

You don't get the chance to reach a decision, as the Undertaker appears about a minute after you arrive back in the shop (mercifully with his robes back to where they should be!). The two of your stare into each other's eyes for what feels like an eternity. Words totally fail you, as you try to think of an appropriate way to say 'I'm sorry I interrupted you taking a shit.' Is there even an appropriate way to say such a thing? Will a general apology suffice? It'll have to, as you'd really rather not give him a situationally-specific one!

Just as you're about to apologise, he does something quite unexpected; he laughs. Quite out of nowhere, Undertaker bursts into a rather violent fit of giggles, making you jump backwards slightly. Well, at least if he's laughing, there's a good chance he isn't angry at you. You watch him anxiously as tears stream down his face, and he doubles over with laughter. What does he find so funny?

It takes him a while to calm down enough to speak. 'Hehehe… I'm sorry about, my lady. It just struck me funny it all. You just literally caught me with my trousers down! I thought that was just an expression! Hehe, priceless that was. Anyhow, what can I do for you today?' You're beginning to see what the boy meant when he said Undertaker is eccentric. The man is clearly mad! Still, he seems the friendly sort of mad, the kind of mad that makes for interesting company rather than dangerous association.

You have to steady yourself again, your nerves shaken again. Undertaker seems to have that affect on you. 'I apologise for catching you unaware, Mr Undertaker, but I did call out. You told me to return to you a few days after our initial meeting, to discus the interior of my mother's coffin? If I've come at a bad time, I'll be more than happy to come back another day.' You gesture towards the door, indicting that you'll follow through with your words if he asks you to.

Undertaker flashes you a toothy grin, his eyes still concealed by his bangs. 'Call out, did you? Sorry, I must have been in my own little world. Now that you're here, we might as well get started on the specifics. Will you accept a cuppa this time? Trust me, it'll make this all feel a lot easier.' You're sceptical of that. How can tea make bereavement any easier? Still, it would be rude to turn down his offer a second time.

You give him a small smile. 'Tea would be lovely, Mr Undertaker.' He leaves without another word, the grin still on his face. As he heads for the room that you now know is the kitchen, you take a seat on the bench again.

As you wait for your host to return, you think about the deal you made with your husband again. You regret offering him an entire twelve hours of solitude. You really should have given him six. There's nothing you can do for twelve hours every Saturday! Not as a married woman, that is. If you were single, you could probably find yourself a Saturday job. That would not only give you something some way of occupying yourself, but it would also give you a bit of extra money each month. Maybe, if you saved it all away, in a few years you'll have enough to finally get away from your wretched husband, and start a new life somewhere else. Maybe a quaint little village in the West Country, or a busy town up North. Anywhere has to be better than being here with James…

However, your plans are folly. No one will hire a married woman. Your husband is expected to provide you with everything you need. People are seldom likely to give a job to someone who already has someone to look out for them. Jobs are only for women who are lucky enough not to be married off to someone without choice. Some days, you almost wished you'd been born a pauper. Surely having nothing is better than having everything you never wanted?

Undertaker breaks through your thoughts by offering you a tea cup. 'Penny for your thoughts, my lady?' Trust him to notice your unfocused state of mind.

You accept the cup. 'I'd accept your offer, but I fear you'd feel short-changed. There's no value to my thoughts; I am but a woman, after all.' You'd tried to keep your retort light-hearted, but one of your husband's many insults had crept into your mind. You're sure that, as a man, Undertaker shall agree with your sentiment anyway.

Undertaker's smile falters as he sits on his desk opposite you. 'Your gender doesn't make your thoughts any less valuable. If anything, it makes me value them more. I get so bored of speaking to stuffy old men and pretentious Lords. I'd much rather hear the thoughts of a young woman, especially one who looks as troubled as you.' His words are almost enough to make you blush. He has such a kindly way of speaking to you. He addresses you as if you are human. It's something you've never experienced before, but certainly wouldn't mind growing accustomed to.

You decide to come clean. After all, what harm can it do to vent your thoughts to him? He doesn't seem like the kind of man who'd spread gossip about you. Besides, who would believe the word of a lowly undertaker, over that of a wealthy woman? 'I fear I may be a little too trouble to interest you, but given your persistence I'll concede defeat and tell you. My husband and I recently came to a most peculiar arrangement. In exchange for a frankly insulting sum of money, I have agreed to leave my home of two years every Saturday for a solid twelve hours. A peculiar arrangement, I'll admit, but one that I believe shall benefit the both of us greatly. I was just considering what to do with my newfound freedom.' That seems like a good summary of your situation.

If you could see the top half of his face, you'd undoubtedly see Undertaker raising his eyebrows at you. 'I see. Did you think of any thing interesting to do? London is such a fascinating place, I'm certain you've thought of something.'

You shrink into yourself as you answer. 'I was thinking of looking for work, actually. Just on that one day. It's a stupid idea, I know. Who'd take on a married woman? My husband is the only one who is permitted to go out and work. As his wife, I should be content to spend my time doing wifely things, like sewing and shopping. That's what they'll tell me, at least.' You suddenly become very interested in your tea cup.

The lack pseudo eye contact doesn't deter Undertaker from speaking. 'I personally don't subscribe to that school of thought. If I was lucky enough to have a lovely young wife, I'd let her do as she pleased, as long as she returned to my arms every night. Don't try to let the opinions of others get you down. Women are equally as capable as men, even more so in some cases. I think that's why some men try to keep them down if I'm honest. Heaven forbid everyone on this Earth gets treated equally. Best to make men look superior, to keep them on top. It's an attitude that's existed for centuries, and I doubt it'll change any time soon.' You look back at him, surprised by his attitude. You've never heard a man say anything like that before. You'd love to spend more time conversing with him like this, but unfortunately you have business to attend to.

You finish your tea, setting your cup down onto the bench beside you. 'That attitude could make you extremely unpopular, Mr Undertaker. I'll be certain not to let anyone in on your disregard for social normalities and constructs. For now, we should discus business. I promise not to impose on you like that again.' Giving him your best stiff upper lip almost seems cruel, but you don't see any alternative. If you continue to talk to him casually, you know you'll never be able to arrange the funeral. You'd be far too busy listening to him chatter on in that mellifluous voice of his…

Undertaker follows you example, finishing his tea in one final sip. His smile is still there, but there's a certain sadness to it that you just can't place. 'I'm already extremely unpopular, my lady, and my dislike of social norms is well-documented. Why do you think I'm all alone in my shop? Loneliness isn't something most people choose. Well, it's certainly not something I'd choose.' You heart aches for the man, and you regret your callous words. If only there was a way to make him feel better.

Suddenly, you remember you have something for him. You reach into your purse, and pull out the deposit your husband has so reluctantly given you. If he's anything like your husband, the sight of money will certainly bring him joy. You practically shove the money into his hands, hoping that he'll grab it on instinct. He does, humming in curiosity. When he realises what you've just given you, he asks you why you've given him such a thing. 'It's your deposit, Sir. I did tell you I'd get one for you. I'll pay you the rest when the deed is done, just as we discussed.' You grin, certain that you've cheered him up.

He gives the money straight back to you. You stare at him incredulously, wondering why on Earth he's unhappy with your offering. Is it not enough? You can give him more, if that's the issue here. 'The Queen's Coins mean nothing to me. The only things of any value to me are laughter, and friendship. You've already given me choice laughter today, my lady, and indulged me in conversation. That is deposit enough for me. Keep your money.' He gives you a small smile, and it completely melts your heart. If anyone in this world deserves a friend, then surely it's him. If only you knew someone suitable…

The answer hits you like a tonne of bricks.

Undertaker stands up, and begins to head towards what looks like a half-finished coffin, presumably the one you ordered. You chase after him, almost knocking the cup off of the bench with your sudden movement. When he realises what you've done, Undertaker tilts his head at you, clearly perplexed.

You tell him of your sudden brainwave. 'What if I came to visit you on Saturdays? I could keep you company, and you could give me a place to wait until I have to go home.' His expression is unreadable, and for a moment you think you've offended him.

His face remains unchanged as he answers you. 'I'll admit, I'd be grateful of the company, but weren't you hoping to find a job? After all, I can't be the only person in this city who thinks married women should be permitted to work. Surely you'll want a paying job, rather than sitting in here and just keeping me company.' He has a fair point. After all, you were planning on saving up all of your job money. Unless…

Another brilliant idea hits you. You give Undertaker the money again, much to his surprise. 'Employ me. Give me a job here, and use this money to pay me, even if it's just a little every week. When all the money has been given back to me, I'll find work elsewhere, only this time I'll be looking for a job with experience under my belt. Well, I don't wear a belt. Experience under my corset? It's perfect, either way!' You beam at him, hoping he'll go for it.

He chuckles, and pockets the money. 'Well, my lady, I do believe that you are the master of bizarre arrangements. Still, who am I to turn down such an enthusiastic offer? You start here Saturday, at ten o'clock sharp, though feel free to come here a bit earlier if you want breakfast. I'm your boss now, so I can't let you go hungry. Also, I'm not going to charge you or your brother for the coffin. Consider it a bonus. Now, what kind of lining would you like for said coffin?'

The two of you had proceeded to discus the specifics for the coffin. Knowing that you didn't have to pay for it made you feel rather guilty, so you'd initially gone for mid-tier fabrics and fixtures. Your new employer wasn't having any of it, all but insisting you choose the finest things imaginable. 'Any woman who bought someone like you into this world deserves to leave it in comfort and style. So, let's give her the best send-off possible, okay my lady?' It made you smile, realising that he already seemed to have something of a nickname for you. Despite offering to work for him out of compassion, you're actually looking forward to working for him. He seems like he'll be a nice boss.

On the way back home, you wear a wild smile, counting down the days until you can see your potential new friend again.


	3. First Day Disaster

Saturday arrives a lot slower than you'd hoped it would. As much as you hate the idea of being kicked out of your new home once a week, you're incredibly excited to start your new job.

You haven't actually told your husband what you'll be doing to pass the time today, but you doubt that he even cares. He's probably just been looking forward to having some alone time with some random woman he's just met or something. Ah, well, more fool them for sleeping with your husband by choice! They're welcome to him as far as you're concerned.

By ten to nine, you're dressed and ready to leave. You decide to skip breakfast, trying to avoid James as best you can. As calm as you are about letting him see other women, you'd rather he didn't rub it in your face over the breakfast table. You do however make sure to say goodbye to him before you leave, just to let him know that you're honouring the agreement.

You poke your head into the dining room, catching sight of James stuffing his face with food. The sight is so revolting, you doubt you'd be able to eat even if you wanted to.

Upon hearing the door open, James looks up at you. 'So, you're actually going through with this then? I rather thought you'd back down, given how unreliable you are. Maybe I should mark today down in my calendar as the day my wife finally did something good for me.' You fight the urge to walk over and pour his morning cup of tea over his head. That ungrateful… any other women would probably have shoved him out of a window by now. It's not your fault that you couldn't give him a son, it's just the way things are. You would have if you could have, but you can't, so you won't. That's all there is to it.

You respond with a sweet smile on your face. 'Well, maybe some other woman will be able to do something good for you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have an appointment to keep.' Satisfied with your response, you make to leave, only to hear James get up.

Before you have time to get away, James grabs your hair, pulling it tightly. You can feel each individual strand fight to stay embedded in your scalp, a fight you wish they'd just give up on so it wouldn't hurt so much.

You can feel tears of pain begin to form as James puts his mouth to your ear. 'Listen here, you little bitch. I will not be spoken to like that! Not by you, and not in my own house. The next time you speak out of term, I'll beat you so badly that you won't be able to leave this house even if you wanted to. I was joking with what I said earlier, it's not you doing something good for me; if I was another man, I'd tie you to the bedposts until my seed finally quickened within you. You should get on your knees and thank me for such kindness. Still, what do I expect? You're nothing but a useless whore, and nothing will ever change that. Now get out of my sight, and don't even think about coming back before nightfall. Oh, and if another woman does what you have failed to do, I'll have you lying on the streets in a pile of your own shit faster than you can say 'pathetic little tart'!' He shoves you to the floor, slamming the kitchen door in your face.

You can't control the tears that begin to stream down your face. For a moment, you were concerned he was going to put you in the hospital again. You need to get out of this house quickly, because if he finds you still here when he leaves… You stand up, legs shaking like a newborn calf's. Using your hands to wipe away your still-flowing tears, you head off to see the Undertaker.

-t/s-

You make it there surprisingly quickly, given what state you're in. You've only just managed to stop the tears from flowing, and you feel exhausted from all the emotional stress. The lack of breakfast has probably contributed to that as well, as has your newfound anxiety over this situation. After all, your new boss had said ten, and it's only half nine. He had said it was okay to show up early, but is this too early? What if he's changed his mind? He was very reluctant, after all…

You make one more attempt to correct your appearance, before knocking at his door, hoping he doesn't notice how red your eyes are from crying.

You're greeted by Undertaker almost immediately, a warm smile on his face. 'Well, if it isn't my new Saturday girl! You're nice and early today. I guess my offer of breakfast was too good to resist, hm? Come in, and I'll make us some pancakes. You're going to need all of your stren-' He stops mid-sentence, his head tilting to one side. 'Is everything alright, my lady? You look like you've been crying...' So he has noticed. That didn't take him long. Your husband never seems to notice when you've been crying; you were beginning to think all men were like that.

Upon being asked, the flood banks break again, and your sobbing recommences. Undertaker's smile immediately disappears, only to replaced by a concerned frown as he pulls you into a hug. 'Shhhh, hey, it's okay now. Why don't you come inside with me now and tell me all about? I'll even make you a nice, hot cup of tea. Come on.' He rubs small circles onto your back, trying to comfort you. If he was anyone else you'd feel uncomfortable, but something about him puts you so at ease…

You let Undertaker guide you into the shop, head still nestled against his chest. You hear the door close behind you and flinch, the noise reminding you of earlier. If Undertaker notices, he doesn't mention it. Instead, he guides you deeper into the shop, heading for what you know is the kitchen.

When you get there, you hear a chair scrape on the floor as it's pulled away from the table. Undertaker gently coaxes you into sitting, and you notice your tears have left a wet spot on his clothes. Before you can apologise, he speaks again. 'Now, you sit here while I get the tea ready. I'll make us breakfast when I know you're feeling a bit better. Just try to take a few deep breaths. Whatever it is, it'll all be okay, I promise.' No, it won't. You know it won't. Still, it's hard not to be taken in by his words. You offer him a small nod, and he turns he back on you, setting the kettle down on the stove.

As he makes your tea, you try to compose yourself, angry for losing control like that. This isn't who you are. You're strong, and feisty, and you don't let others tread on you. Still, you don't like the idea of being hurt any more than anybody else does. Or, it could be that you're subconsciously concerned about missing your mother's funeral due to injury. Or maybe you're just worried that the next time James puts you in hospital, you won't ever wake up….

You're so busy worrying that you barely register Undertaker putting a cup of tea in front of you, and flinch yet again when you hear him pull up a chair next to you. Still, the noise is enough to pull you out of your thoughts for now, and you offer Undertaker a sad smile.

'Thank you for the tea, Mr Undertaker.' Your voice sounds too quiet, like it's broken or something. You don't like how it sounds.

Undertaker rubs your arm, trying to comfort you more. 'That's okay, my lady. Oh, and 'Mr Undertaker' was my father. Please just call me 'Undertaker'.' You choke out a laugh. 'Well, that's certainly a step in the right direction. Now, what's bothering you, my lady? You can tell me anything, and I swear to you, it won't leave this room. I just want to see that beautiful smile of yours again.' Can you really trust him to keep this between the two of you? What if he tells someone how James has been treating you? You don't want anyone to find out about that. The shame attached to such a thing.. Still, you have to tell him something. You get the feeling he's the kind of man who won't stop pestering until he gets the information he wants. He'd make an excellent detective…

A half-truth it is, then. 'My husband and I had an argument this morning. He… he thinks I've failed him by being unable to produce children. He's right, of course. I have failed him. Still, no one likes to be told that.' There, that's mostly what happened. You've just neglected to tell Undertaker about the violence attached to it. Surely he'll let it be now.

Undertaker gives you a concerned frown. 'Oh, dear, he's one of 'those' men, is he? I should have known.

'You haven't failed anyone, my lady, least of all him. Some people just can't have children. It's no reflection on you as a wife or as a woman. It's just a cruel joke that nature has decided to play, and I'm sorry that you're on the receiving end of it.

'Your husband has no right to such horrible things to you. If anything, he should treat you with even greater kindness. You seem like the kind of woman who would love to raise a family with someone. I bet not having children is a greater grief to you than it is to him. He only wants an heir, after all.

'If you don't mind me intruding, is verbal abuse the only kind that you suffer at your husband's hand? Or has he ever taken it further?' Everything he's said is true, and you know it. He's even managed to suss out the abuse. Is now the time to come clean?

No. You can't do it. You can't tell him what James has done to you. You barely know this man! Why have you even told him all of this to begin with? You should end the conversation right now, before you reveal too much.

You put on a brave face as you answer him. 'Of course he hasn't. Why would you even say that? My husband may have his moments, but he's not a thug. And anyhow, I really don't think you have any right to pry into my private life. I barely know you, for Goodness sake!' You shrug his hand off, and focus all of your attention on your tea.

Undertaker lets out a heavy sigh. 'I'm sorry, my lady. I didn't mean to cause offence. I just hate seeing you so sad. Sadness doesn't suit you, no one little bit. Happiness is much more fetching. It brings out the sparkle in your eyes. Ah, well. If you don't want me to pry, I won't. As long as you're safe at home, I won't speak out again. I'm truly sorry.' You want to fall to your feet and apologise, and beg him to help you. You want to tell him how you plan to use your job money to get far away from James, and how you don't feel safe in your own home.

Instead, you give him a small smile. 'No harm done, Undertaker. Now, if it's still no trouble, I'm starting to feel rather hungry.' Your stomach gives off a growl, backing up your words.

Undertaker giggles. 'So I hear. Well then, I'd best make the lady some pancakes. We have a very busy day ahead of us, after all.' He gets up and heads straight for the stove, beginning breakfast preparation.

You try to ignore the butterflies that form in your stomach as you watch him cook.

-t/s-

Turns out that Undertaker's idea of a busy day involves tidying the shop from top to bottom. Normally, such a task wouldn't take very long, as the shop really isn't that big. However, had Undertaker explained to you before you began that it hasn't actually been cleaned since he opened it. Apparently he's never had the time to keep it clean, as he's always busy with either clients or 'guest' (his almost charming nickname for the cadavers). So, the two of you have spent all day cleaning every square inch of the shop.

Luckily, today has been a very slow day, with only one customer paying Undertaker a visit. Not only has the quiet given you time to work, but its also given you time to get to know your employer a bit better.

Most of what you know so far are the basic things; how long he's been an undertaker (he'd apparently set up shop a few years ago, but has prior experience tending to the dead), why he decided to become one ('It's an important service, one that very have the stomach to provide. I have such a stomach, so why let it go to waste?'), and why he keeps his hair in front of his face at all times ('Coming here his difficult enough without my face scaring the customers!'). It's not much, but it's better than being totally clueless.

You finally manage to finish cleaning at about half past eight, the same time you'd been planning to start making your way home. Funny, you'd completely forgotten about life outside of this shop for a while. Now that you remember, you're not sure you really want to leave…

Alas, you know that it's inevitable. Even if James hates you, he still views you as his property; he's not likely to take kindly to you staying away for too long. Reluctantly, you hand Undertaker your broom, and explain that you have to be on your way. 'Is it really that time already? It hardly feels like any time has passed at all… Did you enjoy your first day at least?'

You smile at him. 'Of course. It's been so nice to get out of the house for a while, even if cleaning is a bit tedious...'

He offers you a smile in return. 'Don't you worry, my lady. This was only an introduction. Next week I'll be teaching you a few things about the coffins, and the general running of the business. Which reminds me, hold out your hand.' You do as instructed. Undertaker drops a few coins onto your outstretched palm. 'Payment for a job well done. I look forward to seeing you next Saturday, if I don't see you sooner.'

His words remind you of something. 'Oh, I meant to tell you earlier! My brother is going to make arrangements for Mother's body to be delivered to you some time next week. Is that okay? We were hoping to bury her the week after next...' Is that too short notice for him? It is rather sudden…

Undertaker nods. 'That won't be a problem at all. I only need to put a few finishing touches on the coffin, then we're good to go.' Well, at least that's settled now.

You give him another smile. 'Thanks Undertaker. Now, I really must be going. I'll be back soon though. I think I'm going to like working for you.'

Undertaker flashes you his own smile. 'My pleasure. I'm really going to enjoy working with you, too. It's so nice to have such enchanting company.' You can't contain your blush at his words. He really finds you 'enchanting'? How flattering. You want to tell him that he's a very interesting man, but think better of it. If you do, it'll seem too much like flirting, and you'd hate to give him the wrong impression; even if you hate your husband, you're still a married woman.

You rush out of the shop before you can say something foolish.

-t/s-

The journey home is tiresome, made even more so by the knowledge of what is to come. With any luck, James will be so exhausted from having relations with random women that he'll already be fast asleep.

As you open the door to your house, you see that you've had no such luck; James is stood in the foyer, waiting for you.

He smiles salaciously as he seems you, and you can smell the alcohol from across the room. Has he spent the whole day drinking? What happened to him meeting a woman?

James approaches you, swaying a bit. His speech is slurred, but understandable. 'There shhhee 's. M' wife. Back to d' wife stufffffffff. Jus' well really. I wan' you go to bed wi' me. Got to get you pregna-' At that point, he collapses on the floor, unconscious from all the alcohol he's imbibed. You have to admit, you're glad of his weak constitution. It wouldn't be the first time your husband forced himself on you in a fit of drunken desire. His day must have been terrible…

You feel no sympathy for him.

Instead, you make your way to your room, asking one of the butlers to drag your husband to his. He's going to be very hungover tomorrow; you'd be wise to avoid him.

As you dress for bed, your mind recaps the day's events, and you find yourself looking forward to seeing Undertaker again…

No. Your job. You're looking forward to going to work again. Sure, Undertaker is nice, but he's not the reason you like your new job.

Is he?

You try to shake that thought away as you settle down to sleep.


	4. A Moment Of Weakness, Or Truth?

It's now been two months since you started working for Undertaker, and you've concluded that is really isn't the work or the money that motivates you.

Your mother's funeral had taken place the week you'd requested, though the funeral itself was a sorry affair. Despite his promise to attend, your brother had neglected to show his face at the funeral. Urgent work matter apparently. You were disappointed, but not surprised. Your brother has always been married to his work. Your sister-in-law had shown up with your nephew though, so that's something, at least.

Your father had also stayed away from the funeral, though he has yet to tell you why. You're beginning to grow concerned. Even though you've never been overly close to your parents, they've still always taken the time to write. You haven't had a single letter from your father following your mother's death; you're worried that something dreadful may have happened to him, too.

Other than those rather notable absences, all the usual suspects had been in attendance. Relations that you haven't seen since you were a child had all crawled out of hiding in order to say their goodbyes to your late mother. Even James had attended, though you'd suspected that's because he had his eye on a cousin of yours (when said cousin appeared at your house the Saturday after the funeral, your suspicion had been proved correct). Undertaker seemed to spend a lot of the funeral glaring at James, as if his mere presence offended him. Then again, you and he have become firm friends lately. Perhaps he hated seeing his friend's husband acting so ungentlemanly?

Speaking of James, the impossible seems to have happened; he's somehow gotten even worse.

The first night you came home from Undertaker's had been the beginning of the end for him in a way. He's spent almost every waking hour drunk, howling abuse at servants, forcing himself on your unsuspecting house maids, and making your life almost unlivable. You've taken to hiding from James as much as possible, although that only lasts for so long. He always finds you, and he always punishes you for avoiding him…

Most recently, after you'd managed to spill his whiskey when pouring it into his glass (your hands had been shaking too violently for you to pour properly), he'd decided to put his cigar out on the back of your neck, the pain so excruciating that you'd cried out in agony. When the servants had arrived, he'd told them that you were just being a silly cow, and that they should ignore you. Even though they could see the damage James had done, they'd left the room, desperate to avoid their master's ire. The worst thing about that particular incident had been the fact that James had dragged you off to bed just after, telling you 'you can apologise properly by giving me an heir!'. That night had been the worst night of your life, even worse than the time you were hospitalised. You're more determined than ever to leave him, but with James growing ever more irritable, you know you have to tread carefully.

You just hope you can find a way out of this mess before he kills you.

-T/S-

It's barely eight o'clock, and you're already leaving the house, desperate to get as far away as possible before James wakes up from his drunken slumber. You've started to arrive early at Undertaker's shop every Saturday, much to his evident delight. 'Good morning, my lady.' He says in his cheery voice. 'Ready for your morning pancakes? We've such a busy day ahead of us!' Its always the same, but you're glad of it. At least there's some form of comfortable stability in your life, even if it only takes up a fraction of it.

You've started visiting Undertaker on days other than Saturday too, your desperation to be out of James' destructive path prompting you to visit at least three times a week. Of course, James thinks you're out shopping, but you're not about to tell him the truth. Then again, maybe he'd file for divorce if he knew; at this point, homelessness may be a better choice than living with him. Hell, maybe you won't even have to be homeless. If you can save up enough money to get your own little flat and a proper job…

Speaking of which, you're beginning to worry that Undertaker will use up the last of the money very soon. He's been giving you extra on the weekdays that you've visited him, as you've been helping him do bits and bobs around the shop. You hadn't given him much to begin with, and with the amount he's giving you each time… it seems like it'll be a matter of days before he's given it all back, and then you'll have to move on. After all, as much as you love spending time with Undertaker, you need money; you only hope you can actually find someone else willing to take you on.

Now isn't the time to think about that. Right now, you have work to do; you've just arrived at Undertaker's shop.

You give the door a brisk knock as usual, hoping he'll be up. This is the earliest you've ever come to visit him, so you have no idea if he's even awake.

You only have to wait a few moments before the door opens, and Undertaker appears, a grin on his face as always. 'Well, if it isn't my lovely assistant. You're particularly early today, my lady. Were you missing me too much to stay away?' Even though he looks as cheerful as ever, his hair makes him look like he's only just gotten out of bed. Had your knocking woken him? You hope not, as you'd hate to think that your desire to leave your house as swiftly as possible has caused him any kind of inconvenience. You do so hate imposing on him so much, even if he doesn't mind. Maybe his life would be easier if you found another job sooner than planned…

You brush off that thought. If it was any real bother, he would have stayed in bed and made you wait! Still, an apology seems like the proper thing to do.

'I'm terribly sorry if I have disturbed you, Undertaker. I fear I've become rather eager to get to work recently. I think I've grown fond of the smell of formaldehyde and sawdust.' You offer him a smile, and his own grin seems to widen even further.

'It's never a disturbance when it's you, my lady. You're my pretty Saturday girl, after all. Speaking of, here, take this. Consider it a reward for your enthusiasm.' He hands you a few coins, which he managed to produce from his pocket whilst he was speaking. You accept the money happily, but your heart sinks as you do. It's bought you even closer to being done here, and closer still to having nothing to gain from being here. You wonder if Undertaker has made the same mental leap.

Undertaker invites you inside, and you both head straight for the kitchen, falling into the routine you've built over the last couple of months. He begins preparing tea and breakfast as always, and you watch, trying not to let your thoughts wander anywhere inappropriate. More than once recently you've caught yourself trying to make out the outline of his backside through his robes, and thinking about the potential size of his…

For goodness sake, what was that about keeping your thoughts from straying?! You're a married woman, act like it! Even if your husband is an abusive bully that you never chose to marry, you still have to remain faithful to him. Then again, he's never shown you the same courtesy. He has a reason for his roving eyes though; he's trying to find someone to carry his heir. Still, surely your reason for looking isn't less honourable than his. He wants a son for his own selfish reasons; you just want to feel loved for once in you life. Well, pleasured, at least. Still, after all you've put up with recently, you think that you deserve it; it's just a shame you're far too loyal to ask for it. Not that Undertaker would even give it to you… would he?

Before you can think any more about it, Undertaker turns around, and puts breakfast down in front of you. The man really seems to have a love of pancakes…

You begin tucking in greedily, and find that they are just as good as always. You'd be tempted to ask him how he makes them so well, if only you had someone to make them for. Maybe Undertaker will let you cook one morning? It is the least you could do for him, after all. Maybe on your final morning together, you should make them, as a thank you for everything. Not that he'd ever ask for your thanks; unlike James, he doesn't begrudge you anything at all. Why couldn't James be more like him? It simply isn't fair!

Undertaker giggles as you wolf down your breakfast. 'I'm beginning to think that they don't feed you back home. Perhaps I should start sending you home with care packages!' He's joking, of course. He wouldn't gain anything from it, so why would he do it? People only ever do things if they want something in return; just look at your family pairing you with James. It's a harsh truth, but a truth all the same.

You smile back, and decide to call his bluff. 'Perhaps you should. You are the best cook I've ever met, after all; the cooks back at my manor don't even begin to compare.' Your voice had somehow managed to take on a sultry tone for the second half of your response. Are you subconsciously trying to flirt with him?

Undertaker seems to notice the tone of your voice, and responds in kind. 'There are things

I can do besides cooking that seldom draw comparison. At least that's what I've been told.' Without thinking, your legs rub together. He's flirting back! Does that mean he'd be willing to have an affair with you if you wanted one?

No, pull yourself together woman! He's probably just teasing you! You are a married woman, and he is your boss. No good can come from forgetting that.

You desperately try to banish the sexual tension now present in the air. 'I'm sure you have many talents, Undertaker, although I'm not sure I wish to know them. Now then, I'm practically doe with breakfast, so why don't we discuss our plans for the day. Do we have any clients due?' There tends to be the occasional pre-booking, but most clients just drop in. You can't plan death, after all…

Another giggle falls from Undertaker's lips. 'Nope, nothing planned at all, Miss Organised! Or rather Mrs Organised, do forgive my forgetting that. It's just going to be you, me, and this shop. It's nice to hear you referring to 'us' as 'we' though. Almost brings a tear to my eye, it does. I've never been a 'we' before. I'm glad to have made a friend, even if we didn't meet under the best of circumstances. Now, finish up completely, and we'll get to work!' With that, he begins to work on his own stack of pancakes, devouring them even faster than you had! For someone so cheerful, you can't help but think he's hiding a sadness just below the surface…

Guess that makes two of you.

-T/S-

It's evening time, and you let out a heavy sigh. Once again, the day has gone far too quickly for your liking. Soon it'll be time for you to head home, and hide from your husband to the best of your ability. Honestly, how is it that life continues to be cruel to you? Your parents pairing you off with little input from you is bad enough already, but for them to pair you with James… fate is a sick joke sometimes.

Undertaker seems to pick up on your sudden solemn mood. 'Everything okay? You seem very glum all of a sudden. Want to talk about it?' Yes. Yes, you really do. Maybe telling someone will make it all go away. Maybe, if Undertaker knows what James is like, he'll help you escape. Maybe, just maybe, he could fix things, help you make a new life far away from the man you married.

Yeah, right. This isn't a fairytale, and Undertaker is no daring knight, no matter how chivalrous his intentions always seem to be. You're not a princess either, although James is most certainly a dragon.

Then again, calling him that is an insult to dragons.

You shake your head and smile, trying not to make it look forced. 'I'm fine, I just realised the time is all. It always goes too fast when I'm with you. I only wish I could stay longer.' Should you really have said that? It makes you sound rather pathetic, and you really don't want Undertaker to think you're pathetic…

Undertaker walks over to you, his movements slow and deliberate. You're about to say something else, but freeze when he puts both his hands on your shoulders. His touch sends delightful shivers down your spine, and the desire to feel his hands on your bare flesh almost overwhelms you. Since when has human contact affected you so? No one else has ever gotten this reaction before, not once.

It makes you want to do something reckless.

Before you get the chance, Undertaker starts talking. 'Does that have anything to do with the mark on your neck? You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but please, don't deny that it's there; I know a burn mark when I see one.' Your blood turns to ice. He noticed it? But how? Has he been staring at the back of your neck or something? You're not sure if that thought terrifies or excites you. The thought that he might be watching you while you work is making your reckless urges grow even further.

You open your mouth to tell him it's none of his business, but you can't. You can't think of anything. All you can think about is just how soft his lips look.

Worried that Undertaker is going to talk again, before you lose your nerve, you lean in, and kiss him.

The kiss is as soft as it is sudden, but it's the best kiss you've ever had. There's real feeling in the kiss, more so than there has been in any other. You withdraw your lips before it can continue though, as you begin to realise what you've done. Not only are you married, you've just kissed your boss! You'll have to leave your job, there's no way you can stay here now! He'll hate you, Undertaker will hate…

Your thoughts are cut short when Undertaker kisses you enthusiastically, one hand weaving itself in your hair while his other moves to your waist and pulls you in close. Even though you know you should push him away, you can't help yourself, the last of your common sense abandoning you in favour of kissing him back with all the passion you can muster. Your own hands weave their way into his hair, knocking off his hat in the process. He doesn't seem to notice, as his actions never falter; he seems completely focused on kissing you. It's only when his tongue rubs against your lips does reality return. You shouldn't be doing this. It isn't right, kissing a man like this. You're still a married woman, you still have to be loyal, you still… you still… you just can't!

You push Undertaker away, fighting the urge to whine when your lips separate. You're about to apologise and run out, until you notice that his hair is swept to the side, and his face is on full display; he's incredible! You've never seen anyone as attractive as him! You can understand why he he hides it; no one would be able to focus on his words if he showed them his face!

His face has you considering things. This man, this wonderful man, is attracted to you. Back home, you have a man who is decidedly not attracted to you. Why are you so keen to return home? Maybe you should stay, only if for a while longer. He did ask you a question, after all; it would be rude to leave without answering it.

Undertaker stares at you in silence, his eyes (which are the strangest mixture of yellow and green you've ever seen) silently waiting for you to say or do something, anything.

You open your mouth.

'It has more to do with you.'


	5. Changes

Your mind is swimming as you stare at Undertaker, trying desperately to explain your answer. It doesn't help that the kiss you just shared has completely destroyed any semblance of thought other than 'I can't do this, I'm married.' Honestly, if you had a man who could kiss you like that every day, you'd spend the rest of your life in total bliss.

Instead you're stuck with James, and his total refusal to kiss you.

Unless of course you abandon your principles in favour of having an affair. Undertaker seems like he would be willing to entertain such an idea, and you're almost desperate to go through with it. After all, it's not like there will be any potential repercussions. You can't have children, your husband doesn't care enough to ask what you've been getting up to, it's late enough now that very few people will be around to witness your walk of shame back home… what do you have to lose? Apart from your misguided sense of loyalty. For once in your life, you have the chance to make a choice for yourself.

It would be almost criminal to waste such an opportunity.

With your thoughts somewhat coherent, you explain your answer to Undertaker. 'You are the only man in my life who treats me like I'm human. Every time you see me, you smile, like you actually want me here. You make me breakfast everyday, never once expecting me to do it just because I'm a woman. You're the only person who's said anything about that mark on my neck; most people act like they can't see it, or assume that I must have done something to deserve it.

'Well, here's what I've done. I've spent two years of my life stuck with a man who sees me as a barren womb on legs. The way he treats me… it's worse than you'd treat an animal! He stubbed a cigar out on me just because I spilt his drink as I poured it. The reason I spilt it? My hands were trembling in fear, just because I was in the same room with him. Every day of my married life has been miserable, to the point where I wish he'd knock up some other woman just so he had a reason to throw me out. I'd take life on the streets over life with him any day.

'So, imagine coming from that, to coming here. Whenever I'm with you, I wish that I didn't have to go back. Being here… it's almost like a dream. Who in their right mind would want to return home where here is more like how a home should be? I wish that I hadn't been born into money, and I wish that I'd found you sooner. You're a good man, and you deserve all the love and companionship in the world, and it breaks my heart that I can't give that to you.

'At least, I can't give it to you all the time. But, there's nothing I want more than to give it to you as often as I can. I've always told myself that I'd be faithful to James no matter what, but that kiss… I just want to feel loved. You make me feel loved. I… I just want you.' Tears begin flowing from your eyes in an unstoppable tirade, and you make no move to stifle them. If today is to be the first time you decide to do something for yourself, then it might as well be the first time you allow yourself to cry freely.

Undertaker seems to take in your words careful, before pulling you into an embrace, his hand stroking your hair as you cry into his chest for the second time since you've known him.

He begins whispering softly. 'I think I understand now. The reason you were so desperate to work was to get enough money to leave your husband, is that correct?' You nod into his chest. 'I see. I wish you had told me sooner. I have some money squirrelled away for a rainy day, if you want it, it's yours. I can't bare the thought of you going back to James, not after what you just told me.

'I… I care for you, more than I have any right to. If you weren't a married woman, I confess that I would have wooed you using everything I have. I would have taken you on long walks in the park, or to see various exhibits in the Crystal Palace. I would have given you flowers every day, and traded you my heart for a single kiss. I regret that fate has prevented me from doing all of that, but that's life. We don't always get what we want, or when we want. Sometimes we just have to make the best of what we have. So, as you have given me a kiss, I'll offer you my heart if you want it. Even if it only brings us both pain, I need to be with you.' Your head feels dizzy again, and you pull it back to look at Undertaker. You don't know where to begin with all of that. He'd truly give you the money to escape James with? He wants you regardless of status? He… he needs you, actually needs you, and not just what's between your legs?

Too caught in the moment to think, you lean up to kiss Undertaker again, this time without hesitation. The kiss is returned in kind once again, sealing a silent vow between the two of you.

When his tongue requests entry this time, you grant it willingly, savouring the feel of it in your mouth. It's feels like sin personified, and that only makes you want it more.

In the back of your mind, you know that this is still wrong; in the forefront of you mind, you know that it really isn't.

After a few moments, you separate again to allow for breathing, but your lips remain within an inch of Undertaker's. His hands are on your hips now, and you begin to wonder how far he's willing to take things today.

You get your answer seconds later. 'Would you like to take this elsewhere, my lady? Or is a kiss enough for tonight?' You need more, you want more, you have to have more. A kiss is never going to be enough, not where Undertaker's concerned. You want him to carry you off to bed, and make passionate love all night.

However, as he said himself, life is cruel, so you have to learn to make do.

You shake your head. 'We don't have time for that. Not tonight, at least. But, we do have time… would you take me on your desk instead? It's right there, so it won't take as long. I know it's not ideal, but I feel like I'll die if I don't feel you inside me tonight.' You're beginning to sound like a bad romance novel heroine, but you don't care. If it conveys your feelings, you'll use any words that you can get out.

Undertaker's grip on your waist seems to tighten. 'You're returning to him tonight, then? There's nothing I can do to change your mind?' You shake your head. 'I see. I don't understand why you'd do that to yourself, but if it's what you want, I'll accept it.' He begins leading you towards the desk, and your brain clocks that as meaning he's agreeing to your request.

You gasp as you're suddenly lifted up into the desk, your backside dangerously close to the edge. 'I will never retract my offer. I'll give you all the money I have if it'll help you start a new life away from your husband. Even if it means I never get to see you again… knowing that you're safe would be enough.' His hands work their way under your dress, and begin toying with your underwear, working them slowing down your legs.

You shake your head at him. 'I don't want your money. If I leave James, it'll be to come to you. I just need some time to figure out a way to make sure he doesn't follow me when I do.' Your underwear is gone now, and you feel Undertaker's nails take up your thighs, heading towards your opening.

Undertaker suddenly looks stern. 'If he follows you, then I'll just have to stick him in with one of my guests. Then again, a man like him deserves to spend eternity alone, and it would be disrespectful to shove a fiend like that in with an unsuspecting soul.

'As I'm agreeing to your request, I wonder if you'd agree to one of mine; come back tomorrow, or Monday at the latest. I'll shut up shop for the day, and show you exactly what it's like to have a lover who cherishes you. It feels so wrong, taking you like this. But you have a point; I cannot bare to be without you right now.' He pulls on your legs, both spreading them open and edging you closer to the desk's end.

Undertaker begins to tease your opening with his fingers, playing with your body as if it were an instrument of some kind. As a few moans of pleasure leave your lips, you remark silently that that's exactly what he's doing; your body is the instrument, and your pleasure is the noise it makes when it's being played by someone who knows the melody.

A strange sensation begins to build within you, and you wonder exactly what Undertaker is doing to you. You've never felt such an overwhelming sense of… sense of…

You scream out suddenly, as your body experiences a wave of euphoria unlike anything you've ever known. Your legs stiffen almost painfully, and your walls twitch around nothing, wishing they had something to squeeze.

You get your wish, as a few moments later you feel Undertaker push into you, his unexpected entry only heightening your pleasure more.

The pace Undertaker sets is gentle, but that doesn't seem right given the position you're both in. So you wrap your legs around his waist, coaxing him into thrusting harder and deeper. He lets out a desperate moan, his hands gripping your thighs for support. Under normal circumstances, you'd be worried about leaving marks in case James sees them, but not this time. You hope Undertaker leaves marks on you. You hope James sees them. You hope he puts two and two together and actually gets four for once. Any beating you receive will be worth it, if only for the fact that it'll be followed by divorce.

Your lover grunts about you, and you've been with James enough times to recognise when a man is about to climax. You don't begrudge him his release though, not after what he made you feel. When you finally feel him let you, you welcome the feeling of him spilling inside of you, knowing that you actually wanted him to. All those times with James pale in comparison to right now, this one time on a desk in a tiny Undertaker's shop, with a man you've known for just over two months, whom you've come to love, even if you're too scared to say the word out loud.

When Undertaker is finished, he gives you another deep kiss before slipping out, his seed trickling out of you a little. He manages to wipe it off with your underwear before it reaches your dress, preventing any incriminating evidence of what just transpired.

Realising what he just did, Undertaker smiles apologetically. 'I probably should have used a cloth for that. I don't like the idea of you walking around in soiled underwear, even if I'm the one who soiled it.' He's got a point. He should be the last person in the world who would begrudge you wearing those underthings again.

Instead of insisting though, you give him a wink. 'Why don't you clean them for me then? I'll pick them up tomorrow.' You hop gracefully off of the desk, no small feat given how wobbly your legs feel.

Undertaker grins. 'And if they're not clean by then? Will you come here another day?'

You see what he's playing at, and decide to play along. 'I'll come here everyday if I have to. As long as I get my underwear back at some point.'

That earns you a chuckle. 'I promise nothing. Perhaps I'll keep them as a reminder of the time the most beautiful woman in the world asked me to take her. Then again, I don't think I'll need something to remind of that, not when I'll be sat up to the very desk on which it happened.

'Speaking of work, would you be offended if I gave you your wages now? For the work you did today not… well, I don't want you think that's what the money is for.' He seems to be blushing a little, embarrassed by his own thought process.

You give him a friendly laugh. 'No payment necessary. You've already offered to help me get away from James, and that's all the payment I need. Besides, you can't have that much left to give me at this point.'

Undertaker's blush deepens. 'Actually… the money you gave me ran out last week. This last week has come out of my own pocket, which has been totally worth it if you ask me. Still, at least now we don't have to feel guilty over the boss-employee situation. Although, I must admit I like the idea of that… have you ever considered role playing?'

You roll your eyes. 'Your thoughts always travel a mile a minute. No, I've never considered such a thing, but I would be willing to indulge in your fantasy; just not tonight. Tonight I have to run to my bedroom before my husband can yell abuse at me. At least I have something to look forward to.' You give him a sad smile, one that he returns.

The two of you share one final kiss before you leave, and you begin to make your way back to the nightmare that you're trying to be free of.

When you step into your house, everything seems blissfully quiet. You let out a sigh of relief as you close the front door, your mind still in Undertaker's shop. How are you supposed to sleep tonight, knowing that tomorrow he's going to blow your mind all over again? It's like being a child at Christmas all over again, only so much better; this time, you're getting something you actually want.

The silence is interrupted by a crashing sound, followed by a feminine scream. Panicked, you run straight into the direction the sound came from, only to receive a nasty shock.

James is currently pinning one of the maids to the wall, trying to rip away her clothing. The poor woman is sobbing in terror, trying desperately to get away from your husband.

In desperation, you run over to him, trying to pry him off. It does the trick, for as soon as he realises who's restraining him, he lets the unfortunate maid go.

The smell of whisky is strong on his breath as he leers at you. 'Well, well. You're finally home. And there was me thinking I was going to have to use another hole. Get upstairs. Your husband wants sex, and that's your job. Get up there now, before I break your legs. It's not like you need them anyway, you lazy bitch…' too scared to refuse, you do as he says, and make your way to his room.

As you fulfil your marital obligations, your mind heads towards Undertaker again. How you wish it was him on top of you now, rather than James. You can almost feel his gentle embrace, his soft kisses, his lips vibrating as they whisper sweet nothings into your ear.

James finishes mercifully quick, before shoving you out of his room. 'Pathetic. You could at least make it good for me. Honestly, why did I even marry you?' He kicks your leg hard, and you wince at the pain, before trying to stand.

Before you can stand up fully, James pushes you down, before stomping down on your hand. 'Bitches can't walk. I want you to crawl back to your den. Go on, crawl for your master, bitch.' He takes his foot off, and you do as asked, crawling over to your bedroom door.

James gives you a smirk. 'Learn your place before I put you in a hole. At least then you'll provide the trees with something useful. Oh, and our agreement is changing. I want you gone everyday from now on. You're only to come home to sleep, and let me fuck you. The rest of the time you can wander the streets where you belong!' He walks inside his room and slams the door, allowing you to close your own.

You head straight to bed, curling up into a ball before sobbing. How long is it going to be before James kills you? At the rate he's going, it could be tomorrow for all you know.

You need to come up with a plan to get away as quickly as possible.


	6. Possible Solution

The sun is barely in the sky when you wake. Your eyes sting as you open them, as they have a lot of sleep to pry away. You did fall asleep crying last night, after all…

You've never known a more juxtaposing day. One moment, you're being ravished by a man who genuinely cares for you, and the next… you can't take it. It's too much. You need to contact your father as soon as possible, tell him what an evil man James is. Maybe then he'll help you. Surely he wouldn't want his daughter to risk her life by being tied to a madman?

Then again, mad as he may be, James has money, and should your father ever find out that you've slept with a lowly undertaker… he would not want to risk his standing in the community.

Despite the early hour, you leave bed and dress yourself, planning to slip away before James rises. After last night, it'll be too soon if you ever see him again. You're also concerned for the maid, so you'll make sure to put in a word with the head butler, letting him know that he has your personal permission to restrain James and contact Scotland Yard should he try to force himself on anyone in your absence. Not that he'll listen, he's too loyal to James, but it's better than doing nothing.

You dress in the simplest thing you own, knowing full well that you won't be wearing it for long. Your thoughts begin running in a most wonderful direction. Will Undertaker take you to bed straight away, or will he insist on feeding you first? Will it be all lovemaking, or will you have some time just to talk and hold each other? Will his bedroom performance be as unforgettable as his desk one, or even better?

Should you feel guilty before sleeping with him, or after?

You shake your head in disbelief. How can you even entertain the idea of feeling guilty after everything James did last night? That man doesn't deserve a place in your thoughts, and you certainly shouldn't feel guilty about finding solace in the arms of another.

If only you could actually make yourself believe that.

Aggravated by your own conscience, you dress even faster than before, not wishing to linger.

After all, you're not sleeping or Fucking James, so you shouldn't be here.

-T/S-

The walk to Undertaker's shop seems to last forever this morning. It's hard to believe that you were with your lover less than twenty four hours ago; less than twelve, in fact! Will he even be awake at this hour? What time does he usually rise? Does he have to set up shop before breakfast? He surely won't have to today; he promised to shut up shop today. Unless he isn't sure if you're coming or not…

Well, you're here now, so all you can do is knock on his door and hope for the best. If he isn't awake, you'll just have to wait for him a while.

As you reach the door, you spot a note nailed to the front of it, apparently addressed to you.

It reads;

 _To my beautiful assistant,_

 _I'm sorry to do this, but I'm afraid I have an errand that I urgently need to run. If you would be so kind as to wait a while, I shall be back to let you in. Unless I'm already back by the time you get here… then again, if I'm back, I won't leave this note up, will I? Or will I?_

 _Mmm, okay, new plan. Try opening the door. If it opens, I'm back, and if it doesn't, I'm still out. There! That all makes sense now!_

 _Oh, and to any nosey customers that have taken it upon themselves to read this note, I'm afraid I shall be shut today, owing to a staff training day. What a training day it shall be…_

 _Unless she can't come in today. Maybe I shouldn't bother with a note… well, it's written now, so I might as well. Although I've definitely whittled on longer than intended. If I am out, I'll probably be back by the time you finish reading this!_

 _All the best,_

 _Your waffling boss_

 _(Who has a special bonus for you today)_

You shake your head in disbelief; what kind of man are you falling for?

The kind of man who's not above scaring you half to death apparently, as not two seconds after you finish reading the note, you feel a certain man's warm breath against your ear.

'Looks like I was right; I made it back as you were reading the note. I'm a little surprised to see you so early though; I thought I was being eager, not on time. Shall we go inside, my dear? I'd love to give you your bonus now.' He has you melting already, and he's not even touched you! You're not going to be able to walk home at this rate…

Undertaker places his hands on your hips, and gently shepherds you towards the shop, and you're sure you can hear him giggling under his breath. You don't know why, but his giggles seem to arouse you more than they should. You can only imagine what he must be plotting in that eccentric mind of his. Will he truly take you to bed, or will he instead take you everywhere but the bed? On the floor, against the wall… hell, maybe he'd even be willing to take you in a coffin! You wouldn't put such an endeavour past him. He'd probably make an extra wide one just for that purpose, with a silk lining to ensure maximum sensual sensation…

You snap out of your thoughts when you hear the door shut behind you, and Undertaker's mouth makes it's way to your ear. 'Alone at last, my pretty assistant. Would you like your bonus now, or later? I was thinking I could give it to you now, then we could eat breakfast, then I could drag you into my bed for the rest of the day. I'll spend that time in bed making sure that I have tasted every last inch of you, from the delicate sweetness of your lips to the divine nectar between your thighs. How does that sound, my dear? Does that sound like a plan you're willing to go with?' You can feel your legs shaking, threatening to give out on you. How are you supposed to tell him yes when you're not sure you can even form words right now?

Trying to communicate your answer non-verbally, you grab Undertaker's hands and slide them up your body, allowing them to settle on your breasts. You clamp down on them, encouraging him to give them a good squeeze, before wincing in agony; your hand suddenly feels incredibly painful.

Undertaker notices immediately, and withdraws both of his hands, taking your injured one in both of his. He lightly prods and turns it, examining it as best he can.

After a moment, he speaks, his voice taking on a serious note. 'Did he do this to you?' He's talking about James, you know he is, and he's right. The pain in your hand must be the result of James trodding on it last night.

Oh dear, last night. You'd almost been hoping you wouldn't have to tell Undertaker about it. Still, if you don't come clean, he'll only keep prodding, and you don't want him to feel as if you're hiding stuff from him…

You nod sombrely. 'He did. Last night, when I came home, I found him trying to sexually assault a maid. When I intervened, he dragged me up to bed instead. He wasn't exactly loving nor gentle, especially after kicking me out of his bedroom. He called me a bitch, stomped on my hand… he even made me crawl back into my room. I've only just realised how bad my hand is looking. I didn't mean to startle you.' You somehow manage to keep your voice level, fighting the tears you're on the verge of shedding. Saying it all out-loud, admitting what James is like… it never gets any easier.

For a few moments, Undertaker remains motionless, silently staring at your hand. When he eventually speaks, there's a dangerous imperiousness in his tone. 'You're not leaving here today. I'm going to patch your hand, make us breakfast, and then we're going to sit down and find a way to arrange a divorce. If you think for a moment that I'm going to let that monster anywhere near you…' he drops your hand, and balls his own into fists, his impossibly long nails making the endeavour look rather difficult. Still, you're inclined to believe that he means business…

His words come as quite a shock though. Had you not both agreed to keep this whole thing secret until you were in a position to leave James? That, and you barely know Undertaker, despite everything that he's done for you thus far, and your growing feelings toward him. Can you really just trade your life in for a whim? What will your father say?

Undertaker seems to notice that your thoughts are snowballing, so tries his best to put them at ease. 'I may not seem like a man of means, but I have contacts. A few words to some friends of mine can have you out of James' life forever. I'm not even saying that you'll have to remain here with me. As soon as I know you're rid of him, I'll help you find a home of your own. I just… I can't risk the world losing a smile as pure and as wonderful as yours. Please, just consider it. If you truly wish to leave today, I am in no position to stop you.' You almost wish that he was. At this point, it feels like the only way someone could get you to stay somewhere away from James is if they chained you to a wall.

The thought of Undertaker chaining you up sends a delightful shiver down your spine, but you ignore it; your damned libido can wait.

Not knowing what else to say, you nod slightly. 'Alright, I'll think about it. It's just… I'm so scared, Undertaker. Of what he'll do to us both if he finds us. If I don't come home tonight; he will search for me. Not out of love or concern, but because he feels like he owns me. Even if he resents owning a barren woman…' tears begin to fall from your eyes, as you once again slur yourself again. Is this really what living with James has done to you? You used to be so feisty, so firm. Still, even the mightiest cliffs turn to sand in time, if the tide is persistent enough…

Undertaker tentatively grabs your good hand, and leads you into the kitchen, settling you down into a chair before fetching a first aid kit.

As he wraps up your injured hand, something occurs to him. 'Tell me, you say that James views you as an object, but what price would he put on you? How many of the Queen's Coins are you worth to him?' What an odd question. Can one really put a price on a human life? Well, if anyone could, it would probably be James…

You give Undertaker a one-handed shrug. 'I have no idea. Probably very little, given that I'm both barren and disobedient. He'd probably sell me off for a penny, then offer change.' It saddens you to think it, but that's probably true…

Your comment earns you a thoughtful hum. 'Well, I personally think you're priceless, but if James would be willing to sell you…' sell you? What the hell is he on about?

The confusion you feel must show on your face, as Undertaker starts to explain himself. 'It's quite simple really. You said yourself that James views you as his property. Property can be bought and sold, and that's what I'd like to propose. I offer to pay him for you, give him enough money to make a divorce worthwhile for him. I'll tell him that he may include my name as a guilty party in the divorce, so that he may keep everything of material worth to the two of you, and everyone wins! You're free of that man, and he's free to find himself some poor other woman to attach himself to. Then, you come back here until we can get enough money together for you to find a place of your own. Granted, it won't earn you many favours with your family, but how often do you speak to them anyway? As cruel as it sounds, this may be the only way we can guarantee your freedom.' His finishes bandaging up your hand, and you take a moment to consider his words. Could it really be that easy? Just one little proposal, and you're free? It seems too good to be true…

Then again, up until now, Undertaker has been a man of his word. If anyone can get you away from James, then surely he can. Besides, what harm can it do? James could very kill you any day as it is. Trying to leave him is hardly likely to make him more violent towards you; that isn't even possible at this point. The only real question is; do you wish to cut yourself from your family?

Sighing heavily, you thank Undertaker for bandaging your hand before answering his proposition. 'I need time to think. Please, let us talk of this later. For now, I'd love to sample one of your legendary breakfasts.' The smile you end your sentence on is a weak one, but Undertaker doesn't comment on that.

Instead, he gives your bandaged hand a quick kiss before standing up, heading to the stove. 'One breakfast coming up! What say you to bacon and eggs today? I fear we'll start looking like pancakes at this rate, and I'd hate to have your beauty wasted on an anthropomorphic breakfast item.' He's insane. Completely mad. Harebrained schemes, ridiculous analogies, the ability to drop a subject completely when asked… he's clearly lost it, but that's okay by you; it makes for such a delightful companion.

Undertaker puts breakfast down before you, before taking a seat opposite you. As you both begin eating, your mind begins to wander back to a few moments ago, when Undertaker's hands made to caress your body so tenderly. If only your hand hadn't been injured yesterday, you could be spread out beneath him right now, calling his name out into the early morning air.

Your thoughts cause your cheeks to redden, something that does not go unnoticed. 'Something wrong, my lady? Have you taken ill? You appear almost feverish.' Do you dare tell him what you're thinking? Will he allow you to finish breakfast if you do?

Smiling demurely at him, you decide that honesty is best. 'I was just thinking about my bonus. Am I still going to get it? I know I've been a lot of trouble so far…' you try to look contrite, hoping that it'll come across seductive.

Undertaker almost chokes on his breakfast. 'I didn't… well, I didn't know if you'd want it now, given what happened to you yesterday. I was just going to suggest we spend the day playing chess or something. I can give you your bonus any day you want it, it doesn't have to be today…' well, this is a very different man to the one desperate to get under your skirts earlier. Maybe now would be a good time to tease him…

Your demure smile is replaced by a salacious one, as you stretch a leg out to rub against one of Undertakers. 'You know, I could think so much better on a clear head. I think I need a distraction, something to help clear my mind. If the bonus you plan on giving me could help me in any way, I'd take it now gladly. If you want to give it to me, that is, my dearest Undertaker. Or should I call you 'Under-take-me-now-so-hard-I-can't-walk.' You cringe at your own words. There's no way he's going to go for that now…

A low growl sounds off from Undertaker's chest, and he gives you a stern look. 'Finish your breakfast, dearie. You're going to need all of your strength. In fact, you won't need to make a decision after all, because you won't be in any for state to leave later; my lovemaking shall be slow, thorough, and meticulous. This much I promise.' You drop your fork in shock. That… that really wasn't the response you expected!

You withdraw your leg, and rub it against its twin, chewing at your bottom lip. This man may well be the death of you at this point! Still, better death by lover than death by abuser…

When breakfast is finished, Undertaker takes your plates, placing then both into the sink. He turns to you, a wide grin on his face. 'So then, would you like your bonus now? Or do you want to let breakfast go down? Remember, you still don't have to accept it. If it's too much, just say the word; I've always rather liked cuddling, and would be happy to do that instead.' Well, that could be nice… if you wouldn't like to take him to bed.

You walk up to him, and give him a chaste kiss. 'I think I'd like my bonus please. Although, start out gentle? I'm rather full at the moment…' it's just a shame he's cooking is so good…

Undertaker pulls you into an embrace. 'I can manage that. Let me take care of you, my dear. I'll help relieve you of your burdens, only if for a moment.' He kisses you then, and you feel yourself melt, giving into him entirety.

No matter what you decide later, one thing is certain; all you want right now is right in front of you.


	7. Special Bonus

Undertaker leads you to his bedroom almost hesitantly, as if he's deliberately giving you time to change your mind. Either that, or he knows that if he starts to rush things, he'll only get frantic and rough, the opposite of what he promised to be with you.

When you make it to the bedroom, Undertaker gives you another soft kiss before closing the door and walking over to his window. He makes sure the curtains are as wide open as they can be, filling the room with what little natural light there is this time in the morning.

When he notices you watching him, he assumes you're questioning his actions, so he explains himself. 'I didn't get the chance to look at you properly last night. I'd like to take the time to explore your body, now that we have enough time for me to do so. Is that okay?' Well, this is a far cry from what you're used to. Normally James doesn't even ask you if you want sex at all, never mind asking your opinions on lighting!

You offer Undertaker a small smile. 'I can't see that being an issue. Explore me at your leisure.' You gesture towards your body, and Undertaker's eyes do a thorough sweep of your body, as if he's mentally cataloging every detail.

When he thinks he's seen enough, he walks back over to you, weaves his hands into your hair, and pulls you into a deep kiss, one that seems unending. Time loses all meaning as his tongue hesitantly swipes against your lips for entry, something you willing give. You even find that your own tongue wishes to copy him, and it rubs against his as best it can.

Undertaker is the one who breaks the kiss, allowing you to take a much needed breath. The act has left your cheeks feeling warm, something you're certain has manifested as a blush.

Undertaker confirms your suspicions, as he rubs your cheeks and grins wickedly. 'Flushed is a look that suits you well, my lady. Shall we see if I can make the rest of you blush too?' His question is evidentially rhetorical, as he starts to slowly push your dress off of your shoulders before you have the chance to answer him.

He takes his sweet time with the dress, applying generous amounts of kisses to every newly exploded inch of flesh before pulling it down just a little more. By the time your dress is almost low enough to allow your breasts to pop out, your mind has entered into a trancelike state of pleasure, his mouth the only thing that seems real anymore.

When your breasts do finally escape your dress, he doesn't head straight for your nipple as most men would. Instead, he kisses you anywhere but there, marking his new territory with his mouth. When he finally does decide to focus on a nipple, you let out a moan so loud you're certain the whole street heard you. Undertaker says nothing to discourage the action; if anything, he begins to suckle and bite more rapidly, determined to get a reaction of sorts from you. You end up giving him what he wants several times over, making no effort to stifle your cries in any way.

Undertaker wasn't lying when he said he wanted to take his time; it feels like he's been kissing you for hours, and he's still only gotten as far as your breasts. As fantastic as his kisses and suckles may be, it's not enough for you. You need him to stimulate you further down, or you'll go mad. You try to force the issue by sliding your dress down a little, only to be stopped by Undertaker, who carefully restrains your movement by placing your hands flat against your hips.

He abandons your breasts so that he can whisper in your ear. 'I believe you told me to explore you at my leisure. I don't know if I'm done with these magnificent breasts of yours just yet, so please refrain from undressing yourself further. If you do, I'll only tease you more when I finally give you what you're asking for.' He nips at your earlobe to punctuate his statement, and you gasp, the sudden pain becoming oddly pleasant as he begins to explore your body again.

His kisses seem to have become impossibly slow, no doubt a subtle punishment for your impatience. You wish he'd stop taunting you though, as your body is so desperate for release it's almost painful. You just need the slightest stimulation and…

A thought enters your lust-hazed mind. He only said that his exploration of you had to be at his unfairly slow pace. If you were to explore yourself…

Out of sheer desperation, you slip a hand into your dress, and begin to rub your clit firmly, the stimulation somehow heightened by Undertaker's ministrations.

The moment he realises what you're doing, Undertaker detaches himself from you, before taking in the sight of you half-naked and masturbating before him. Your blood runs cold, as you suddenly recall that such an action isn't exactly ladylike. Is he going to think you disgusting for acting in such a base way?

The hunger in his eyes, and the words that proceed it, tell of a very different reaction. 'To think I was going to tease you. I think a naughty minx like you needs more than a tease. I think it's time I gave you that bonus. I'll warm you now though, you're going to have to beg for it.' His words are almost as arousing as his touch and, against your better judgement, you decide to bite back with a few of your own.

Removing your hand from your nether regions, you push your dress off of your body the rest of the way, smirking as Undertaker's eyes widen; he must appreciate your lack of underthings.

Never breaking eye contact, you walk over to the bed, get on all fours, and look back at your lover, wigging your ass as you speak. 'Make me beg for it then. I bet you'll break before I do.' You bite your lip, your eyes sending Undertaker a challenging glance.

Undertaker begins to undress slowly, only answering your quip when he's stark naked. You almost don't hear what it is, as you're too busy staring at his body. For a man that spends his days tending to the dead, he has the body of man that spends all day farming, or some other intensive manual labour. Maybe he's not the one that should be doing the exploring…

The look that he gives you as he speaks is so intense your legs almost give way. 'You have no idea what I want to do to you right now. I could keep you here like this all day, just admiring your body. I could tie your hands to the bedpost, forcing you to stay here with me. I could cover your eyes and tease your body until you cry out and beg me to stop. I'm not going to do that though. I want you to see exactly what you do to me. I want you to be able to turn your head and watch as I lap at your dripping entrance until I've tasted my fill of you. Then, I'm going to flip you over, so you can watch as I slide myself into you. Finally, I want you to look into my eyes as you accept my release, knowing that I offer it to you out of passion, not obligation. I have no hidden agenda or desire. I don't want you to give me an heir, and I don't expect you to let me fill you just because I'm a man and you're a woman. I want you to let me because it's something you want me to do. I know that yesterday you didn't have a problem with it, but that was then. This is today, and we have enough time to be able to do things the way we want them to be done.

'As for begging, I can safely say that I've never begged for anything in my life, but if anyone can change that, I'm sure it'll be you.' He nips one of your ass cheeks, and you burrow your head into the bed, trying to stop yourself screaming out his name. If he does even a fraction of what he's just told you…

Doing your best not to start begging him already, you wiggle yourself at him again, trying to act composed. 'If you can satisfy me, I might let you finish in me. You'll have to do more than kiss me this time though; unless you want me to step in and fuck myself instead.' You instantly regret your words, concerned that your vulgar language will be enough to discourage any further action from your lover.

Undertaker grunts. 'I stand by my earlier assessment; you're a naughty little minx.' That's all the warning you have before he turns himself over, positions his mouth underneath your opening, and brings you down to meet him, his tongue instantly entering you.

You can't help but cry out, the experience completely new. You should feel ashamed, having a man's mouth so close to your intimate area. Shame is the last thing you're feeling right now though, with Undertaker's tongue caressing you so beautifully. All you can focus on the the pleasure that seems to be radiating from every inch of your body, and the sensation of being in such an intimate position with someone.

The combination of the two brings you to climax with an unsurprising haste, and you scream out your lover's name into the early morning, hoping once again that you've not been too loud.

As you come down, you expect your lover to stop what he's doing and see to his own pleasure. He doesn't seem to be stopping however; if anything, his movements have become more rapid, as if he's trying to bring to climax again before the initial one has even subsided!

Remembering his words from earlier, you decide to sneak at peak at Undertaker.

The image will stay with you for the rest of your life.

He has his eyes firmly shut in what you can only assume is ecstasy, and his mouth seems to flirt between every inch of the flesh before it, tongue lapping up at the moisture he created greedily. To you, it looks like he's sampling the finest ambrosia, and you're not entirely sure that's not what he's thinking too. He wasn't lying when he said he'd drink his fill; the man looks as though he could spend all morning there.

Undertaker opens his eyes unexpectedly, and stares into yours. As if his mere gaze was the trigger, you find yourself reaching climax again, doing your best to maintain eye contact with the man below you.

Unbelievably, his ministrations still don't relent. You're not sure how much of this you can take now. Your body isn't used to climaxing once during sex, never mind twice. Hell, you've not technically even had sex yet! If he doesn't stop now, you're going to be limping home…

Carefully going over his words from earlier, you try to coax him into focusing on himself. 'Undertaker… please… I need you to fill me.' His ministrations falter slightly, but he soon gets back on track, but not before sneaking his hands up to toy with your neglected nipples.

You can feel your body begging for release again, but you don't want to go over the edge again without Undertaker inside you. If you do, you're not certain you'll have the energy to even see to his needs…

You try begging again. 'Please Undertaker. I want you inside of me so much it hurts. I want to feel every inch of you deep inside me. I want to look you in the eyes and beg you to fill me with your seed. I want you to bite me, and claw at me, and bruise me, and mark me as your own in every way possible. I'm begging you; take me.' Undertaker groans into you, but still refuses to relent, his teasing becoming impossibly faster.

When your third orgasm hits, you're certain the world around you has fallen into dust. Nothing in it matters anymore, nothing except you and your lover. The whole of London could go up in flames around you and you'd never know. You wouldn't particular care either. At least if London burnt down you'd finally be rid of James.

When this orgasm subsides, Undertaker finally takes mercy on you, wriggling up your kneeing form before rolling you both over. The moment your back hits the mattress his mouth is on you, the taste of your sex still fresh on his tongue. If the act of oral sex didn't disgust you, then this gesture surely should. It doesn't; if anything, it just makes you want him more.

Just as you begin to find breathing difficult, Undertaker breaks the kiss, and entwines one of his hands with yours.

His free hand caresses your face gently as he speaks to you in a soft voice. 'Do you still want his? If you wish to stop now, I won't hold it against you. I may disappear for a moment to relieve myself, but I won't be disappointed or angry. If this is all you want, it's more than enough.' A few tears escape from your eyes, the pain of what's before you hitting you like a brick. All you've ever wanted is for someone to ask you what you want. Nobody asked it you wanted to marry James; it was arranged, and you were expected to honour said arrangement. James never asks you for sex; he just takes it because he thinks he has a right to do so. Undertaker has always given you the freedom to choose your own path, with no thoughts to his own interests. He's even been paying you out of his own pocket, just so you can save up as you'd planned.

You almost think you love him. Almost.

You're certain that what you're feeling now could bloom into love given time, and right now you'd give anything to have that time.

You'd even agree to his crazy escape plan.

Then again, is it that crazy? James loves money more than anything else, and as you've failed to produce an heir… he'd see the whole thing as selling something faulty so that he can buy a replacement. It's a pragmatic enough notion that it may actually work…

With your conclusion fresh in your mind, you reach up to give Undertaker a quick peck on the lips before answering. 'I meant what I said. Fill me, use me, mark me. I'll be yours before too long anyhow.' You hope he understands what you're telling him, but you're not sure…

Undertaker's eyes light up, like he's a child seeing a puppy for the first time. 'Does this mean you're willing to agree to my plan? If it does, then I swear to you that I'll make it work. I will use every last one of my connections to get you as far away from James' reach as I can. Never again will he lay his hands on you, I swear it.' The hand grabbing yours tightens, like he's afraid you're going to tell him that he's misinterpreted you.

You smile up at him. 'If you take me now, I'm yours. I won't go back to James tonight, or any other night. You can have me for as long as you want me.' Which you can't help but hope will be a while

Undertaker positions himself just in front of your opening, his hand still locked tightly with yours.

His voice is low and full of need. 'I'll always want you.' With that, he thrusts his way inside of you, and your back arches up to meet him.

The pace that Undertaker sets is slow yet forceful, and he takes his time kissing every inch of you he can reach, your neck quickly becoming a favourite spot. At one point he begins to suck at the flesh there so hard you're sure he's going to leave a love bite. In fact, you hope he leaves a love bite; you did ask him to mark you, after all.

His pace seems to quicken slightly, a sure sign that he's close to finishing. You don't begrudge him in the slightest; in fact, you deliberately clench your inner muscles around him, trying to bring him to his well-deserved climax as soon as possible.

Your action earns your neck a bite rather than a kiss, and Undertaker falters once again.

His breath is hot against the shell of his ear as he speaks. 'Do that one more time, and I'm going to do whatever it takes to keep you in my bed all day.' And what a tragedy that would be…

You smirk at him before clenching around him again, showing him exactly what you think of his threat. You then decide to take things a step further, as you bring your free hand down to tease one of your nipples, your eyes never leaving Undertaker's as you manipulate the right bud.

Undertaker loses it at that, his release hitting him with unexpected swiftness. The sensation of his release filling you feels so raw and intense that your eyes well up again, and tears begin to flow freely from your eyes.

The moment Undertaker comes down from his high, he slips himself out of you, and cradles you into his chest, softly kissing the top of your head as you sob into his chest.

When the tears finally subside, you look up at your lover, who is wearing a loom of great concern.

His look is matched by the tone of his voice. 'Was that too much for you? Was I too forceful. If I was, please tell me. I don't want to risk doing you any further harm.' Harm? Harm?! For the love of God, if he thinks that what just happened qualifies as harm, then you hope he hurts you more often!

Unless he's talking about James.

Come to think of it, that's probably what he meant.

You shake your head. 'You didn't hurt me. You didn't hurt me at all. I mean, I don't think I'll be able to walk for a while, but I can't say I'm terribly upset about that.' You bite your lip coyly, hoping he'll take your reassurance well.

He still seems concerned. 'I'm sorry about that. Perhaps three times was too much? I should have stopped when you asked me to, but I just couldn't help myself; your taste is beyond heavenly.' Despite the fact that he's apologising to you, you still feel heat pooling in your groin again. Maybe he'd be willing to go again in a while…

The heat is soon replaced by exhaustion, as your late night, early morning, and rigorous exercise catch up at you all at once. You snuggle in close to Undertaker, too tired to respond just yet. Undertaker wraps his arms around you, gently stroking your back as he covers you with the blanket from his bed.

Sleep greets you moments after.


	8. The Calm Before The Storm

You don't return to James the day you make love to the Undertaker.

How could you? When given the choice between someone who cares for you, and someone who hates you, who in their right mind would choose a life of hate? You don't know how you've managed to survive this long, but you're not going to risk a single moment more in James' company. He can die in a fire insofar as you're concerned.

So, after deciding not to return, there was only a single order of business; writing to inform James that you'll never return. Undertaker had been more that happy to provide you with the stationary to create such a letter, and had even helped you to word it.

It read;

To my husband James,

By the time this reaches you, I've not doubt my absence would have been noticed. I'm not fool enough to think that you've missed me as a person; I know you only desire what's between my legs, useless as it may be.

Well, I am pleased to inform you that'll you'll never have to see me again. I'm leaving you, James, effective immediately. I shall not be sending for my things, nor shall I be saying farewell to the staff. What I shall be doing instead is contacting a solicitor, and proceeding with a divorce.

For too long I have suffered at your hand. To say you have treated me appallingly would be too kind a way to describe what I have been through these past two years. Before you consider blackmailing me, I want it made abundantly clear that I don't care what happens to my relationship with my family. They may have essentially sold me to you, but as of today I am officially taking back possession of myself.

In case you are wondering on what grounds I intend to divorce you, given how I have no way of proving either your abuse or your numerous affairs, I shall tell you now. I have found someone who cares for me. This man has agreed to take me in and cherish me, even if I am barren. He does not care that I'll never give him an heir, because he sees me as a person, not just a childbearing sack of flesh. That is why, when I arrange the divorce, I shall proudly tell my solicitor that I am an adulteress, and use that as my reasoning for wanting a divorce.

As for a settlement, I expect nothing from you. You can keep every last penny that you have, for I want none of it. As my lover is but an undertaker, there is little he can give you in exchange for me, but he is willing to negotiate a small settlement with you, if it will help the process of our divorce run smoothly.

Farewell, James. I would say that I regret that it has come to this, but I do not wish to lie to you. Marrying you was a mistake, one that I wish I had never made. Still, at least now I have a chance to be free of you.

Sincerely,

Your soon-to-be ex-wife

With the letter written, Undertaker had arranged for its delivery. Then, it was just a case of waiting until the next day to see a solicitor.

That all happened a week ago, and so far, everything has been going to plan. Your solicitor has the wheels moving on your divorce, and so far, you've seen nothing of James. You'd been half-concerned that he would have found you and dragged to back to his kicking and screaming, but so far there's been no sign of him. You can't deny that you're relieved…

As for right now, it's late evening, and you're in what you're now tempted to call your happy place; curled up half- naked in bed with the Undertaker, innocently enjoying each other's company.

After those first two moments of untamed passion, things have reached a comfortable plateau. It's not that the two of you haven't had any… intimate contact since then. No, you've both indulged in that a couple of times since then. The simple reality is that as even though he's offered to take you in, and it's clear that he's besotted with you (and you'd be lying if you said you didn't feel the same), the two of you have only known each other for a relatively small amount of time. You'd never had the luxury of getting to know James before you'd been all but forced to marry him, but this is different. You have all the time in the world to get to know Undertaker, time you're eager to take. He's been more than willing to indulge you too, answering any question you can think of in exchange for a kiss.

Of corse, you've been forthcoming yourself, trading information for an equal fee.

This particular game of 'kiss-and-tell' have been going on for about an hour, and you're still not tired of it. It's clear from the small details you've gotten from him that the Undertaker is an incredibly interesting man, one who has lead quite a life. His stories are all embellished greatly though, of that you're sure; there's no way he's ever met a king, surely?

Undertaker, who has been silent all through your silent recollection of recent events, starts talking quietly into your hair. 'A penny for your thoughts, my lady?' Still intent on the formalities, as ever. It's hardly surprising you've fallen for a gentleman like him.

You snuggle yourself into his chest, enjoying how warm his body is. 'Only a penny? You clearly don't want them all that much.' You bite your bottom lip, waiting for him to take your bait.

Within seconds, Undertaker has you on your back, his body covering yours. You're keenly aware that the only thing separating your bodies is your nightie (a gift from Undertaker, given that you'd had to abandon the ones you have at James'), and Undertaker's underwear (he'd much rather be naked, but had agreed to wear them to make you feel comfortable). If this was James, you'd be terrified of him using this moment to force himself on you. As it's Undertaker though…

The only thing you have forced on you is his nose, as he gently rubs it against yours. 'It's an expression, my dear. If I were to do it based on what your thoughts are worth, I'd given you every penny I have.' He's adorable in his way, and you can't help but smile up at him.

As you're already smiling, you may as well give up any pretence of being offended. 'It's just as well I don't plan on charging you then, isn't it? I was just thinking back over our first week together. It's been perfect. I don't know that I've even been so happy.' You feel like you could cry, but you try to hold it back. It'll only ruin the moment if you burst into tears.

Undertaker kisses you then, a light peck on the lips that lasts only a moment. 'You're going to have to get used to that, I'm afraid. I don't intend to give you up, nor do I intend to see unhappy. So, you're going to find yourself stuck in this happy life with me, if you like.' Oh, but how you'd like that. That's all that you could ever want. But still…

You can feel your heart sink as you answer him. 'I love that, but is that enough for you? If you stay with me, then it'll only ever be the two of us. Can you honestly live with that?' He might be fine with you now, but how long will that last? Surely he'll long for a family in time. You're certain you'll yearn for one too. You know that'll never be though. If you couldn't start a family with James, you won't be able to start one with him. As desperately as you both might want that in the future, you know you'll never be ever to have it.

You're sure you can see pain in Undertaker's eyes, but he hides it with a smile. 'I'm not going to lie to you and say that I don't want a family. I've dreamed of it all my life. But that doesn't matter. I only want children if I can have them with you, and if I can't, then so be it. I'd take you over anyone else. Besides, if it truly becomes an issue… well, surely you've seen how many orphans there are? There are so many children out there crying out for parents. We could take them in, give them a good life. If we can't create life, then we'll help care for life that already exists. If you want to, that is. If not, then I think I could live a happy life with us two.' You want to believe him, truly you do. But who's to say he won't turn on you in time?

That doesn't matter now though. For now at least, you're adored, and you'll take that. As painful as it will be when he breaks you heart, given how you feel about him, you'll take it.

You lean up and give him another quick kiss. 'Is it too soon to tell you I love you?' You shouldn't have told him that. You should have kept your feelings to yourself. Why did you have to blurt that out, of all things?

This time, Undertaker's kiss is more persistent, and lasts longer than a peck. In fact, you're certain he's planning to initiate something with you, until he pulls away slightly prematurely. 'It might be, if I didn't feel the same. I love you, and I'll do whatever it takes to protect you. Even if it means I have to give James everything I own, so long as I have you, it's worth it.

'Now then, shall we call it a night, my dear? We've a meeting with the solicitor first thing, after all.' Ah, you'd almost forgotten that. Thankfully, your solicitor so far has proven them self very useful indeed; as long as they can convince James, you'll be free of him in no time flat. You just have to hope that he will…

Well, that's a problem for tomorrow. For tonight, the only thing that should be troubling you is sleep.

Pushing his chest, you gently coax Undertaker off of you, before snuggling into his side. He puts his arms around you, holding you close.

It's in this position that you drift off to sleep, your worries fading away as your consciousness slips away.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

James isn't exactly missing his wife.

Far from it, actually. It's a relief, having her out of his life. When she hadn't returned home last week, he'd rather hoped she'd been killed. It would have made his life a lot more simple, that's for sure. A clean cut thing. One moment he's tied to a useless wife, and the next he's a widower, free to move on without any stigma or repercussions. Still, at least as he's not technically the one instigating the divorce, it's no real skin off his nose. It's her that'll bare the brunt of the shame, and rightly so; she should be ashamed of herself for failing to fulfil such a basic duty as child rearing.

He only hope the wench beneath him is more of a woman than that.

In fairness, James knows he should be saving up his seed for his next wife, but he never could resist temptation. This maid has been begging for it for weeks now, walking around with far too much exposed. He would have had her sooner, had his wife not interceded. Well, she's not here now, and a man has needs. She'll do well to satisfy said needs until he finds a more suitable woman.

It's not exactly the first time he's used his servants to scratch such an itch. Oh, but if only his wife had known exactly what he did to their staff when she was away. No woman has ever served here and left with her innocence intact, he's made sure of that. Who knows how many little bastards he's made like this. He could have a small clutch of sons right now, and he'd not know it, thanks to the women all heading for the hills. This one won't be leaving though. Oh no. He'll see to that personally. She is going to be here until he gets bored of her, possibly longer if he's feeling particularly sadistic…

Speaking of feeling, James gets a familiar one in his groan, and knows it's time to finish up here. His release is powerful and plentiful, as any real man's should be. The maid is positively flooded with his release, her greedy nether region swallowing it all eagerly. Ah yes, she's a woman alright. Such a splendid sight is a woman who knows just how to submit.

He pulls out of her immediately, smirking when the only thing that leaks of her is a small amount of blood.

Never one to let good work go unnoticed, James smacks the maid playfully on the rear, grinning like an idiot. 'I didn't know you were such a hungry whore! You've taken my seed beautifully. I bet it's already quickening inside of you. Oh, but how beautiful my heir shall be. You're to report to me here every night until I have you with child. Don't worry, I'll take good care of you and my son.' He starts rubbing her stomach, and the maid breaks out into sobs.

Her voice is trembling with the effort of her sobbing when she speaks. 'B-but sir, wh-whh-at if it's a… a girl?' Pathetic wench. Who said she could talk?!

Furious, James stands, grabs a handful of his maid's hair, and drags her off of his bed and into the hallway, still keeping his grip firm on her as he spits out a response through gritted teeth. 'Never speak to me again. The only words I ever want to hear for you are 'I'm carrying your son,' or words to that effect. Oh, and you will give me a son. If you should provide me with anything other than the perfect heir I so desire, I shall have the child sent to the workhouse, and sell you to a whorehouse. Think I can't do that? That's where you're mistaken. I can do anything I want to you. Unless of course you'd like that sister of yours to take your place? How old is she now, sixteen? How do you think she'd cope in your place? Better yet, I could sell her to the whorehouse. I bet the men there would love having someone so young to fight over. She'd be ever so popular there, don't you think?' He doesn't get an answer; good, she's learning.

James drops the maid without ceremony, and takes a step back so that he's within the threshold of his bedroom. 'Well then, now that we understand each other, I'll see you tomorrow. If I don't see you sooner, that is. Pleasant dreams.' He slams the door in her face, grinning ear-to-ear.

With a huge sigh, James flops back on his bed. Poor women like the maid really are a delight to torment. As if he would sell her sister to a whorehouse; what a waste! If she's as attractive as her elder sister, James would rather have her here at his beck-and-call. Still, it's not as big a waste as her sister is. If she'd only kept quiet, James had the perfect plan for her! He was planning to marry, and have his new wife pass the bastard child off as her own. Sure, the timing may raise suspicion, but who cares? Is anyone truly going to question a man of his standing? He could have his maid act as wet-nurse to the child, until he desires another. He would have guaranteed her a permanent place on his staff, raising the children she carried for him. But now? He'll get his heir, have her nurse him, but the moment the child is weened, he's going to sell her to the whorehouse anyway. After all, what use is a servant that can't serve him properly? He should really send her away now, but it seems like a waste.

Oh, if only he could have his wife back for a few weeks while the divorce settles. She's still technically his, so surely he should just be able to barge into her new house (if her lover can even afford that much) and take what he wants from her? If he had that much at least, he wouldn't have to force himself to sleep with the maid. Why did that woman have to bend over and clear away the coals from the fire? She should have known that such a salacious act would cause James to lose all control! He should really go to the chief constable and report an assault, but alas, he doesn't want him to think a mere woman got one over on him; he'd die of shame!

As James settles into bed, he considers which woman he wants to share it with him. He currently has his eyes set on an absolute beauty. Eighteen years old, pale skin,bright blue eyes, golden hair. A vision of beauty, and the daughter of his company's main rival. Ah, but what a wonderful thing marriage between them would be. Having a legally binding agreement between them would halt their rivalry permanently, and may even give him enough leverage to wipe out the other company altogether. Granted, the father will be hard to convince, but he's already got the daughter practically begging for his hand in marriage. He's certain the news of his divorce will be music to her ears, and she'll beg her father to let her marry him. Yeah, that'll work. All-in-all, things couldn't possibly be going better for James.

That doesn't mean he can't have a little fun with his soon-to-be ex-wife though. After all, she is his property, and had no right to abandon him like she did.

James smiles himself to sleep, dreaming of the hell he's about to unleash upon that harlot of a woman.


	9. Shock And Awe

Three months have now passed since your requesting a divorce, and you can finally say that you're a free woman.

Normally, the whole affair would have been over in no time at all. A few harsh words and a large amount of money paid to a solicitor should have had the whole thing settled in a single month or less.

Alas, coming from money doesn't always make life easier.

Your brother, and by extension your father, had heard about the divorce somehow, and had made it their mission to make it so much more difficult that it had to be. While they have both yet to contact you directly, they had taken upon themselves to threaten your solicitor, to the point he'd had to abandon your case out of fear for both his family and his career. Even after hiring a new solicitor, the situation had been bleak, as it seemed they were planning the exact same thing. Nothing you or Undertaker did seemed enough to stop them, and they only had a single demand; stop the proceedings, and return to your husband.

Thankfully, you had an unlikely ally that eventually managed to push the divorce through; James himself.

It turns out that your now-former husband had managed to arrange himself a new wife within a month of you first instigating the proceedings. While you feel for the poor young heiress (the daughter of James' main rival, and little more than a child no less), James having a reason of his own to make the divorce happen as swiftly as possible had helped matters greatly. His solicitor refused to give in to blackmail (almost certainly because James was also blackmailing him), and the divorce was finally settled.

As for settlements, officially neither side paid anything more than their respective solicitor's bills, though on the day, Undertaker did give James a little money; the exact same amount as James gave you for the funeral deposit. It was Undertaker's way of making sure there was nothing left between you and James; no unpaid debts, no petty claims, nothing.

James had laughed in Undertaker's face at the offer. 'Such a meagre amount of money, yet it is too much for a woman like her. If you wish to pay me for her, a single shilling would suffice.' When Undertaker has explained his reasoning, James took the money. 'I suppose that's fair. Still, it's a pity that there isn't more between us. You may think you have won because you have her, but you haven't. What made you want her anyway? Her breasts? Her backside? Neither of those will last forever. Ultimately, all she is, and all she'll ever be, is a nice set of breasts and a tight quim, and both of those will fade in the blink of an eye. When you see what other men have- children, grandchildren, a family- you'll realise that this was the worst decision of your life. You'll toss her aside, and I'll be there when you do; her screams are like music to me.' You'd all but dragged Undertaker away at that point, not wanting him to get arrested for assaulting James.

Overall, the divorce had been trying, but it all worked out in the end. Now there's nothing tying you to James, and you're free to get on with your life.

Well, there is one thing.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Today should have been pretty nice by all accounts.

Undertaker has been in desperate need of supplies all week, so the two of you had decided to go out shopping for them together. It's been a little while since you've been out, owing largely to your health; you seem to have come down with some kind of sickness bug.

It all started about six weeks ago. You'd felt nauseous for a few days beforehand, then one day you'd woken up and rushed straight to the toilet, emptying the contents of your stomach in seconds.

The alarming speed at which it had all happened was a great concern to Undertaker, who had followed you soon after, gently stroking your back and comforting you as you continued to dry heave long after your stomach's contents were gone.

Since that day, you've woken up vomiting almost every day, to the point where Undertaker keeps insisting he take you to a physician. After all, what kind of thing causes a woman over a month's worth of sickness?

If you also had the guts to tell him about your complete lack of 'monthly visits', he'd have no doubt figured it out by now.

It appears as if James will finally be getting what he always wanted; you're pregnant, and you're almost certain it's his.

You hate him. Hate him for this more than anything else. The moment you thought your life was finally your own, he had to do this to you! What if he finds out? Will he attempt to win you back? Or will he skip all of that in favour of snatching the child from your arms the moment it takes its first breath? After all, finding a wet nurse would not be difficult for a man of his means; you will be seen as an unnecessary extra in his eyes.

And what of Undertaker? Could he truly stand by and watch you carry the child of a man you both detest? Would he still want you after it's all over? Be there to try your tears as your child is torn from your arms? You're terrified of the answer. For all you know, this could be too much too soon, an obstacle your relationship isn't ready to overcome. Despite the fact he claims to love you (just as you love him), can you ask him to extend his love even further?

Another reason you hate James is because he's inadvertently ruined your shopping trip; no sooner than Undertaker walking up to pay for his items had you been forced to flee the shop into a nearby alley, your sickness apparently not as lessened as you'd initially thought.

It takes Undertaker but a moment to join you, hastily shoving his purchases and coin pouch into his robes.

You end up throwing up twice more, with Undertaker once again doing his best to comfort you. After the third load of vomit, you start sobbing, the weight of your situation finally kicking in. How can you ask Undertaker to go through with all of this? Perhaps you should book yourself into a home for unwed mothers, and give your child up for adoption. At least then they'll be safe from James…

Undertaker tries his best to comfort you, his lips making a gentle shooshing sound as his hand continues to gently caress your back.

He keeps his voice just as soft. 'It's okay. I promise, it's okay. I shouldn't have taken you out in your state. Let's go home, okay? I think we need to have a little talk. Nothing to worry about, so please don't fret. I just want to make sure I'm taking care of you properly. Shall we?' With that, he produces a handkerchief, wiping away the last few traces of vomit from your mouth before folding and pocking it. You hope he remembers to wash it before he uses it again…

When your sobbing finally stops, you allow him to lead you back to the shop, ignoring the stares you receive from passers-by. They all seem to be muttering about you, something that Undertaker feels the need to address.

His voice is far firmer that it ever is with you. 'Don't you all have better things to do? It's not her fault that she is ill.' Oh, but if he only knew who's fault it was…

That puts a stop to the staring, and the two of you both make it home swiftly.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

The moment you walk in, Undertaker tries to steer you towards the kitchen, but you're not sure if you can make it that far; you feel so weak from vomiting it's a miracle you've made it this far. He settles inside for helping you sit in his desk chair, the most comfortable piece of furniture in this room (that you've sat in at least; you can't say how comfortable his coffins are).

He's about to leave and make tea, when you stop him by grabbing onto his arm. You have to tell him now, you can't let this go on. Making tea will only delay the inevitable. He's going to force an answer out of you one way or another, so you might as well come clean before he turns on you like James would…

Before you get the chance to speak though, Undertaker carefully removes your grip on him, before giving the hand that grabbed him a quick kiss. 'You need fluids, my dear. Just wait a few moments, I promise I'll be back. Just let me take care of you. Please?' At this point, he's already ditched his hand and swept his hair away, so his beautiful eyes are on full display. How can you say no when he's looking at you like that? Like you're his whole world…

Reluctantly, you nod, the words you want to speak constricting your throat. At this rate, you'll spend all day crying rather than confessing. Maybe that's for the best; at least you'll have one more day with Undertaker in blissful ignorance.

Undertaker leaves to make the tea, and you try to think of how to tell him the truth. Do you just come out with it? Tell him you're carrying James' child? Or do you tell him that pregnancy is a possibility, and play down your certainty? You could always try to hide to. Claim you don't want Undertaker to share a bed with you for a few months, wear baggy dresses, hunch so the bump isn't obvious… it seems a stupid idea, but you could at least try. Surely trying that is better than ending everything right here and now?

By the time you've finished pondering, Undertaker returns, carrying a tray of tea and biscuits. You're not sure if you're up to eating right now, but they look so delicious you might just have to try them, sickness be damned.

Undertaker smiles as he sits down on a spare chair the other side of the desk, noticing you you pick up a biscuit before dunking it in your tea. 'That's it, see if you can keep it down. They're plain, so they should be okay. I don't like the idea of you walking around on an empty stomach, considering…' he pauses, as if trying to assemble his thoughts. 'If I ask you a question, do you promise not to hate me for it?' He looks serious, and it's scaring you. What could he possibly ask that could make you hate him?

Swallowing your bite, you smile slightly. 'I could never hate you. Not after everything you've done for me.' And the kindness he's shown, and the compassion and companionship he's given you. How you hate they fact that James has managed to ruin it all…

Taking in a deep breath, Undertaker looks you straight in the eye. 'Are you… are you with child?' He knows? He actually… or he suspects, at least. Oh no. This is not… he wasn't suppose to find out by guessing! You were supposed to at least do the decent thing and tell him!

When you say nothing, Undertaker starts talking again. 'I don't mean to say you're getting big or anything, don't take it like that! But I mean… we've been intimate for just over three months. You started being sick six weeks ago. Most women suffer from morning sickness at the six week mark, so the timings add up. It would explain why you've been sick for so long. That, and don't think less of me for noticing this, but you've not bled once since you've been living here. Please tell me if I'm jumping to conclusions here, but in this old fool's mind, the pieces all seem to fit.' Why did you have to fall for someone who actually knows how pregnancy works? Who actually pays attention to your health? Why couldn't he… isn't he…

You can't hold it in. You start sobbing again, your life about to crumble. He won't keep you here. He'll resent you, and he'll hurt you, and he'll kick you out. It's what James would have done if he'd discovered you carrying another man's child. Well, unless he convinced himself it was his own, and that no other man was capable of such an act.

Clearly panicked, Undertaker stands up, rushing to your side before kneeling down next to you. 'It's okay. I promise, it'll be okay. I know we didn't plan this, but it's fine. We'll manage. You're both going to be fine. I'll take care of you both, I promise. I just need you to calm down for me, okay? Just keep breathing, nice and steady.' He's… he's so calm, does he not know? Has he not figured it out yet?!

You shake your head vehemently. 'H-h-how c-can I… I can't, I can't calm down. Why. Don't. You. Ha-ate me?' He cant just be okay with this. He hates James far too much to be okay with this!

Instead of answering you directly, he does something bizarre; he pushes your chair away, moves so he's in-between your legs, and puts his face against your belly. 'Hello in there, tiny person. It's your dada here. Your mummy is a bit sad right now, but it's nothing to worry about okay? I'll make her smile, you'll see. Anyhow, you'd better make sure to grow up nice and healthy, because we're going to do so much together once you're here. You'll have the best life I can give you, I promise. I love you so much already, and you're not even here yet. You're going to be the most loved baby ever…' What is he… why is he doing this? It seems so cruel, like he's torturing himself. Why devote himself so wholly to a child that isn't even his?

Despite your feelings, you can't help but stroke his head affectionately, his hair soft beneath your fingers. 'The baby… it's James'. You're not the father. I so desperately wish that you were, but…' the tears don't seem to want to stop, but at least you're not sobbing now.

Undertaker sighs, and begins caressing your abdomen, this time addressing you. 'Two things, my dear. Number one is that you are my lady now. Any child you bare is my responsibility, if that's what you want. After all, biology means nothing compared to responsibility. I'm more than willing to raise this child as my own, and do everything I can for both of you. I won't let a silly thing like paternity get in the way of a happy future for us; you've been through far too much to have any other kid of future with me.

'Having said all of that, number two is that you don't know for certain that it is James' baby. Think about it for a moment. Say you started feeling ill at six weeks. If that was six weeks ago, that puts you at twelve weeks, which is about three months. We first made love three months ago. Say that the baby was conceived around about that time. How many times did you and Ja- how many times did James force himself on you?' You can hear the pure disgust in Undertaker's voice, but it has you thinking. Around about the time you slept with Undertaker…

You reach your answer quickly. 'Twice. The night he stubbed the cigar on my neck, and the night I came back after… well… you know.' Making mad love to your boss on a desk…

Undertaker hums. 'Alright, so that's two chances. Now how many times did we make love during that same time period?'

Again, your answer doesn't take long to find. 'Twice. That first night on the desk, then the next day in bed, where I-' his point suddenly occurs to you. 'Twice each. So there's a chance… the baby could be yours?' Why has that only just occurred to you? It's not as if James and you shared a bed often. You'd just thought that as he's the one you've taken to bed the most often… but it only takes the once…

Undertaker nods, clearing noticing your realisation. 'There, you see? If the baby was conceived twelve weeks or so ago, then there's every chance that it could be mine. Not that it's important, but it's still there. Not only that, but if my maths is wrong, or I'm misremembering any of the medical documents I've read over the years, and you're less that twelve weeks, then it has to be mine. Either way, I don't want you to worry about it anymore. These next few months are going to be difficult enough as it is without stressing over who put the baby there in the first place. All I want you to focus on is yourself and your needs. I'm going to be here for you no matter what. Anything you need, you have but to ask me. The same goes for the tiny person too.' He nuzzles his head against you, and for a moment, everything feels perfect.

As you continue to stare at Undertaker (who once again seems preoccupied with 'the tiny person'), you allow yourself to forget for a while. Forget the man who has caused your life so much pain. Forget any notion that the child you're carrying might not be Undertaker's. For now, all you have is hope that the child won't be born with a mass of black hair and hateful eyes.

If you have your way, they'll be born with white hair, and Undertaker's eyes.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

It's a shitty life really. One moment, you find yourself head of a factory, the world at your feet. The only man you have to worry about is the actual owner, and he's a reasonable man, let's you run things your way. Then one day, one of the factory girls cries 'rape', and you're out on your ass, quite literally as it happens. Wife hates you, son won't look at you, daughter is terrified of you, everything ruined;

If Archie Stubbs had known the girl was planning to run her mouth, he'd have just slit her throat when he was done.

Things aren't all bad for him though. You see, the only reason his boss let him go was the fucking media. If they'd not got their claws into the story, he'd still be sitting pretty. His boss wasn't pleased with the… injustice dealt to his former second-in-command. Though if the rumours of what go on in his mansion are true, he's in no position to questing Archie.

James Scottington is hardly saint; perhaps that's why the two men like each other so much.

So, the two men meet, and start talking. Despite the fact that he's soon to be wed to a beautiful young woman, James still has a big cloud hanging over him; his ex-wife to be precise. While he tried his best to keep things all polite at the solicitors, James isn't exactly best pleased that she ran off with another man. He wants payback.

That's when the two men strike a deal.

James has money, and a problem. Archie needs money, and might just be the solution.

His task is a simple one; terrorise the ex. Just little things at first like breaking windows, or smearing shit on the door.

Then James wants it escalated.

Death threats, dead animals thrown in through the broken windows, maybe even arson.

All the while, he wants it damn clear who the target is.

Eventually, he wants the strain to be too much for the ex and her new lover; the pair will break up, and the ex shall be left with absolutely nothing.

What happens from there on out is unimportant to James. Once her life is ruined, the deed is considered done, and Archie gets his payout. Oh, but maybe he should do so much more than just threats. Maybe if he can get her alone…

No, he can't do that. It's the one thing James explicitly forbade, at least while he's working for him. Archie has no idea why though; maybe James does have a ounce of feeling left in him. Besides, Archie has already been promised a woman of his own; apparently, James' housekeeper has a younger sister that would be perfect for him.

Anyway, as he's only been on the job for a week or so, he's dedicated his time to watching the woman, trying to figure out her movements, planning his own. When he saw her throwing up in an alleyway, he'd decided to follow her home; James'll want to know that she's suffering.

Granted, it had been hard to follow them after the lover made such a pubic scene; who is he to tell people not to stare, when there's such spectacle to behold! He'd still managed it though, trailing the pair to an dingy-looking Undertaker's shop.

As he peaked in through the window, Archie saw quite the drama unfold. Tea, tears… one more 't' and it would have been perfection! Still though, it was what he heard that was of the most interest.

The ex is pregnant, hm? James will want to hear about this at once! He's so desperate for an heir, and one's right here waiting for him.

Does this mean Archie gets a bonus?


	10. The Beginning Of The End

It doesn't take long for Archie to make it back to Scottington. He'd taken the first cab he could find straight there, desperate to report his findings. Oh, but the rewards he's sure to earn for this most juicy piece of gossip…

When the cab arrives, Archie unceremoniously tosses money at the driver before sprinting up to the front door, knocking with a confidence he daren't have normally.

To his surprise, it's a woman who opens the door; it seems as if James' live-in plaything is on door duty today. She doesn't loon very presentable though; her uniform appears to be torn in several places, and Archie could swear that it used to be more… conservative than the low fronted short scrap of black fabric before him.

The woman looks terrified; Archie is hardly surprised. 'M-mr Stubbs? Are you here to see…'

Archie cuts her off. 'Obviously I'm here to see your master, you stupid bitch. Why else would I be here? Unless you want to show me those tits of yours?' He stares at her chest and licks his lips, and the woman flinches.

Her voice is only a whimper now. 'He's working in his study now. Should I ask if he'll see you?' Psh, as if she has to. James is definitely going to want to see him.

Before Archie can muster up another crude remark, a voice calls out from behind the maid. 'Lying whore. I've just let my study. I was about to seek you out; looks like I found you.' James is behind her in an instant, forcefully grabbing her hair and dragging her backwards so that Archie can come in.

Archie doesn't react to the scene before him, accepting James' invitation with casual grace (two most uncharacteristic traits for the man himself, but today is a special occasion). 'I'd have thought you'd realised all women are liars by now, Mr Scottington.'

James scoffs. 'You make a fair point. Now, shall we have tea in my study? I take it you're here about the other whore in my life?'

Archie nods. 'As astute as ever. I've got news that'll blow your mind. I was thinking it might even earn me a little bonus…' he begins to eye up the maid, who bursts into tears.

This only makes James pull her hair. 'Shut up. I'm hardly going to let him screw you, am I? My little heir machine, you're all mine until you've got a child in your belly. You should start being nicer to him. After all, if you fail me, he's going to be basically family; I'm going to give him your sister.' The sobs keep coming, her body shaking. Only when James pushes her onto the ground does she momentarily stop, the shock of the impact catching her off guard. 'Make us tea. Bring it to us, then kneel by my side. We can have our daily meeting when I'm done with Archie here.' He turns to walk towards his office, Archie following behind him quickly.

When they reach the office, James takes a seat, before beckoning Archie to take a seat opposite him. He does just that, and the two men sit in comfortable silence for a moment…

… they would have sat in silence even longer, if Archie wasn't so eager to get his secret news into James' ears.

'Your ex-wife is knocked up. Looks like you'll be getting that heir after all.'

James' smile stretches from ear-to-ear.

'Tell me more.'

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

It's been a week since Undertaker learned of your confession, and you've found out that you were right; life as you know it has changed.

Thankfully though, it seems to have changed for the better.

Not that it was terrible before; far from it in fact. But if anything, the news of the imminent new arrival has made the two of you closer than ever.

For one, you barely spend any time alone anymore; Undertaker has been hovering over you constantly, making sure you don't have to lift a finger. From running baths to the work you've been doing for him in the shop for months, you've been all but forbidden to do anything that causes you to go out of your way to expend energy. The only notions exception has been the copious amount of lovemaking you've done in the last week; apparently, your hormones aren't the only ones that have gone mad. Undertaker seems positively overcome with lust for you, the man barely able to keep his hands off of you.

Not that you're complaining, you just wish he had a reason to be; it's not like you're certain he's the one that put the baby in you.

That hasn't been an issue though; he's not mentioned paternity once. He's stuck to his word of treating it like his own, and for that you're grateful. All you have to do now is live your new and happy life as well as you can with a massive bump on your midriff.

Well, it's a small one now, but given time…

Technicalities don't matter right now. All that matters now is you're sat quite comfortably behind Undertaker's desk, sipping tea and helping yourself to bits of food. As your appetite hasn't been quite right thanks to all the sickness, Undertaker had thought it best to make you a platter of things to nibble on through the day, rather than risk making you meals you're not fit to eat. 'At least this way, you'll eat something, and you won't be restricted to only eating at certain times.' It's a solid idea, one that's already seen you consume a few small sandwiches, a bite or two of cold meat, and the odd biscuit or five (probably closer to ten, but if he's not counting neither are you).

You're about to make a start on another sandwich, when Undertaker's voice makes you jump. 'Eating well, love? Is this all okay, or is there something else that's tickling your fancy right now?' You're starting to run low on biscuits, maybe you should ask for more of them? Nah, he wouldn't. He's talking about proper food. He wouldn't want you sat snacking on biscuits all day…

You shake your head, and he smiles. 'Alright then. I'll make you another batch of biscuits though, they seem to be going down a treat. Do you think our baby has a sweet tooth? I bet they do. I bet they have a sweet toot just like their dada…' he reaches down to gently stroke your belly, before kissing you on the head and heading off towards the kitchen. So he HAS noticed how many biscuits you've been eating…

The moment he enters the kitchen, the shop door opens, and you stand up, preparing to greet the customer with your best 'deepest sympathies, I'm here to help' voice.

You freeze when you see who it is.

James?!

Why… how did he… what?! He shouldn't… he can't… this isn't happing, is it?! It's just a bad dream, it's just a bad dream…

Your distress must show on your face, because James grins menacingly. 'Bet you thought I'd just let you walk away, didn't you? Oh, but we're not finished you and I. A little birdy told me you're carrying my heir; I've come to take you back where you belong.' He begins marching across the shop faster than you've even seen him move, so fast you know you don't have any chance of outrunning him. What do you do? Call out for Undertaker?

You open your mouth to scream, but fear has taken your voice from you.

James is the opposite side of the desk now, and you consider your options. You can't fight him properly, but maybe if you put up enough of a struggle, Undertaker will hear it, and come running. That might work. Besides, James won't try to hurt you too badly if he knows about the baby, right? He wouldn't risk harming 'his' heir, would he?

Before you can find something to fend him off with, you hear a large thud, your attention returning to James only to gasp; Undertaker has him pinned against the desk, one of his hands holding both of James' wrists while the other keeps your vile ex's head firm against the solid wood.

Undertaker's voice sends shivers down your spine; you've never heard him sound so menacing. 'Leave immediately, James. You have no business here. You and she cut ties the day you divorced; she has nothing of yours.' His grip on James seems to tighten, to the point you're certain he'll break the shorter man's wrists.

James spits his reply into the desk. 'That child is rightfully mine. Only I could have fucked the infertility out of her. You really thing a poor mongrel like you could do that? It's not like I even want her. You can have her back once she's given me what's mine. Granted, I might let a friend of mine mess her up a little first, but she'll be… mostly useable when she comes back.' You feel sick, and this time it's not from the pregnancy. He's going to… he'll… you try to keep your breathing steady, but the way your heart is beating, you're concerned it'll stop from overuse at any moment…

If you'd thought Undertaker's voice from a moment ago was scary, the acid drenched tone that he uses next is something else. 'Is that so? Well, James, why don't I give you a few home truths?

'Number one, if you think I'm letting you anywhere near her or MY baby, you're so very mistaken it's almost laughable. I am stronger than you can imagine, and I'm not above using that strength to keep MY family safe.

'Number two, you all but sold her to me, telling me she was mine now because you didn't want her. While I think the idea that you can 'own' a person is sickening, that constitutes a verbal contract, one that was witnessed by several people if I recall.

'Number three, my personal favourite by the way, is this; you can't 'fuck the infertility' out of anyone. That's not how people work. If she's pregnant now, he's not infertile. How many women have you raped, James? Don't try to deny it, I know how you work. No sane women would ever willingly sleep with you. Come on, how many?' Where is he going with this? He's really going to make James admit to what he's done to countless women?

James manages to turn his head enough to glare at Undertaker. 'More than you ever will, you molly.' You don't even know how many women 'more than you ever will' amounts to, and you're not certain you want to…

Undertaker snickers, before returning to his terrifying tone. 'Funny you should say that, because I think you'd have as much luck getting someone pregnant in a so-called 'molly house' as you would forcing yourself on every woman in existence. You know why? I think your musket is all gunpowder and no bullet, if you catch my drift. As for me, well, while it's true I've not been with a woman in quite some years, it's funny how the one woman I've been with recently is having a baby. Think about that for a while before you start screaming the odds again.' To your surprise, he lets James go, but your former husband doesn't move for a while, apparently dumbfounded by Undertaker's comments. You're in a similar position yourself. Two years you were with him, and not once did you even consider that HE was the problem. It makes so much sense you could almost believe it. After all, how many former maids have written to inform him of a child? Would they even bother? Maybe not, but presumably the families of the maids would have written demanding he take action? If that really is the case, then this baby…

James stands upright abruptly, before staring daggers at Undertaker. 'Nice try, trying to blame it on me. As if she's not a worthless tramp who just so happened to have one single moment of being useful. All the women I've had are just useless chunks of flesh, fit only to be used and discarded. You'll see. I'll have my new wife soon, and she'll be with child within seconds of me taking her to bed.' You'd almost forgotten about that. The poor girl…

Undertaker smirks again. 'The fact that you finish in a matter of seconds makes me think you're both infertile and dreadful in bed. Tell me, does your fiancé know? Does she know how you treat women?' She can't do, surely? She wouldn't go near him if she did…

James' face contorts into a repugnant smile. 'Who cares what she knows? I'm paying her father for her. He doesn't care what happens to her, as long as he gets his money. And if she fails to give me an heir? I suppose I could send her to you. You seem to enjoy my leftovers.' Undertaker tenses up, ready to punch James in the face. He stops himself just in time, taking in a deep breath.

That gives you enough time to jump in. 'If I am nothing but your leftovers, it means you're finished with me. You have no reason to be here. Leave now, before I tell Scotland Yard exactly what kind of man you are.' You should have contacted them a lot sooner. If nothing else, you might be able to convince them to force James to stay away…

James' only response is to laugh. 'You think they'll believe one hysterical woman over me? Dream on, whore. You press charges, you'll end up in Bedlam. Then again, if you did, it shouldn't be too hard to convince them to give me the baby. Yeah, that works. Go and tell them. See what happens.' He's right, of course he is. As if they'd take your word alone over his…

It's Undertaker who takes the chance to jump in now. 'It's not just her word though. You admitted yourself she's not the only woman you've abused. You might be able to deny the accusations of one person, but dozens? Not to mention you're not the only one who has contacts. So I promise you now that if I ever see you again, I will ruin your life. After all, who'd do business with a man like you? Nobody decent, surely.' If you had to fall in love with anyone, you're certainly glad it's someone who knows how to stand up for you. Still, at this point, you almost wish you'd gotten with a murderer; at least then the problem would be gone forever.

You're going to blame that last dark thought on your pregnancy hormones and nothing else. As much as you hate him, you don't want him to die…

… that's what you'd tell the judge, at least.

That last line makes James shake with rage, and you're concerned he'll be the one that starts the fight, but to your surprise, he begins to leave, only stopping at the last moment so he can have the last word. 'You'll see. I'm the one that'll ruin you. What will the whore see in you when you have nothing? She'll come running to me, if only to get off the streets. Maybe she'd even consider selling me my son. I'd give you a few shillings for him. I'd double the price if you left me fuck you again, for old times sake. Wondering how I'll ruin you? That's easy. After all, there are plenty of undertaker's in town. I'll just spread a rumour about what you do with the male cadavers, that'll put people off. Maybe it'll be you getting a visit from Scotland Yard in the end? I hope so. I like the idea of you behind bars for the rest of your life. I have a business meeting this week as it happens. I think I'll tell Earl Phantomhive all about you.' He leaves quickly, slamming the door forcefully behind him.

When you're sure he's gone, your legs give way, and you end up in a heap on the floor, crying your eyes out.

Wordlessly, Undertaker scoops you into his arms, and carries you into bed, sliding you both under the covers. He keeps holding you as you sob, your tears creating a massive wet patch on his robes. If he's noticed, he doesn't care, as all he does is start stroking your back, trying to soothe you.

When he thinks you've calmed down enough, he finally speak. 'His threats are hollow. While it's true Earl Phantomhive is my best customer, nothing James says will make a difference to him. I was planning to write to the young Earl anyway, so I might as well mention James. I'll be sure to mention the young woman he's due to be marrying. While I myself might not be able to convince him, well, the offer of working with Funtom in leu of James' company might be enough to convince him to reconsider. As for other potential clients, well, most of them seem to trust me, and if people believe James' rumour, I'm sure showing them you and your condition will vindicate me considerably. If not, I suppose it's a few lost customers. And should Scotland Yard investigate, they'll find no evidence of any such activity, and that'll give me grounds to have James himself arrested. It'll all be fine, I promise. I swore to keep you safe, both of you, and I will. You're both going to be fine.' You want to believe him, you really do, but…

'He's more vicious than you can imagine. He won't make this easy. Maybe… there are places I can go. I could give the baby away. Then he'd have no reason…'

Undertaker cuts you off. 'You don't… you don't want our baby? You'd give our child away to strangers?!' You'd expected him to look angry, but he looks traumatised, as if you'd told him you plan to kill yourself.

You nod your head. 'To protect it, I would. I'd do whatever it takes. I want our baby to be safe, to have a happy life. They won't have that with James in the picture. He'll drive us apart, destroy our lives. I want this baby so badly, but don't want our child to live in fear and on the streets.' You're about to burst into fresh sobs, the situation unbearable…

Undertaker forces you to look at him. 'It won't come to that. I swear it, on our baby's life. I can protect you both. Please, let me keep you safe. Don't leave me here alone. You're my family now. I need you here with me. I need you by my side…' you should ignore him, pack a bag, and go. Go so far away James won't even know where to begin looking.

But you can't. You can't do it, not with the look Undertaker is giving you. He looks lost, and so desperate it breaks your heart. You can't leave him. Not like this. If he really thinks he can keep you safe…

You nod. 'Okay. I trust you. I'll stay with you, and I'll trust you to keep us safe. I want our baby to be with us. I want us to watch them grow up, watch them become their own wonderful little person… but we need to agree right now that if anything happens…'

Undertaker finishes your statement. 'We take them out of this. I can agree to that. I know people who would look after them for us. They'd keep them safe, and give them back when we can give the baby a proper home. They'll keep you safe too, if I need them to. If nothing else, I swear I'll keep you both out of James' reach. Whatever it takes.' You hope these people can be trusted, but you'll take him at his word.

You cuddle in close. 'I love you. I know you'll do your best for us.'

He hugs you even tighter. 'I do more than my best. Whatever it takes. Even if it kills me, though I've been told I'm hard to kill.' Well, that's a concerning statement!

You looks at him with concern, but he shrugs it off. 'That was a lifetime ago. Those days are long past me, I swear. I'm a family man now, after all. I have a nice, stable job that brings in enough money to support my gorgeous wife and our bump.' You cant help but giggle at the thought of Undertaker working in an office or something, all dressed up in a suit and tie, coming home with a sigh and the thump of a bag of papers landing on the kitchen table. There is one thing amiss though…

You raise an eyebrow at him. 'You May have a somewhat stable job and a baby on the way, but where's this gorgeous wife you mentioned?' Something flashes in his eyes for a moment, and you worry you've said the wrong thing.

Within seconds of you asking however, Undertaker has an answer. 'Curled up in my arms, if I can convince her to say yes.' Shit, that was actually quite… has he been planning this? Or is he joking?

You smile at him, your smile more challenging than happy. 'Ask me properly and I'll say yes.' While that's true, you doubt he'll actually do it, especially given the situation…

Undertaker hugs you close. 'Alright then. The jewellers should be done will the ring soon, so that gives me a few days to plan the perfect proposal.' He's… oh wow, he's actually serious?!

You sit bolt upright, your eyes filled with delight. 'Do you mean that? Do you really want me to marry you?!' Part of you is really hoping you've not misread Undertaker's strange sense of humour…

All Undertaker does is wink. 'You'll find out soon. I'll give you three hints that might give it away though; I love you, you're pregnant, and I love you.'

You scoff. 'You said 'I love you' twice.'

Undertaker grins. 'That's the reason that matters the most. Still, it's good to know my plan has a guaranteed chance of success, if your enthusiasm is anything to go by. Still, I'd better make it memorable. It'll be something I'm sure our grandkids will ask about some day.' He's thinking that far ahead? Damn…

Grinning ecstatically, you gesture to your belly. 'Let's just keep focusing on the one generation for now, okay?'

Undertaker stares intently at the small bump, as if he can see through your skin. 'Okay, but for how long? I haven't made you those biscuits yet. I don't want you going hungry. You're eating for two, after all.' As if you could forget that…

The one thing you wish you could forget is James, yet he's the one thing you're certain is going to be lurking in your mind for a long time yet.

You only hope Undertaker is true to his word.


	11. Future Plans

Even with James and his threats just on the horizon, life is still better than it's ever been.

While you've yet to see any sign of Undertaker's ring two weeks after him first mentioning it, that is irrelevant. Engaged or no, you've never known a sweeter man in your life.

Even now, he's got you sat quite comfortably on his lap, softly caressing your body. Your sickness seems to have settled a little, but you're still very much at the mercy of the tiny life inside of you.

A tiny life Undertaker already treasures; there's one part of you that's received more than a modest amount of attention, and it isn't your face. You're almost concerned that the baby means more to him than you do, but you're quick to dismiss the concern; he's excited about the prospect of fatherhood, but he's not obsessed about heirs like James is.

When you feel Undertaker's hand slide across your thigh, you playfully slap it away. 'I'll have none of that today. Not while you're supposed to be working.' In fairness, there's not been a customer all day, so it's hardly surprising he's getting bored; just a shame you're too tired for anything too taxing.

In response, Undertaker playfully nips your ear. 'I'm only touching you. Completely innocent, I promise. As indecent as my thoughts towards you may be, I'm not about to push you against my desk and take you. You need rest now, lots of rest.' He moves his hand up to caress the small bump on your abdomen. 'This little one has really taken it out of you lately. It's using all of your energy to grow big and strong for us. Our baby is going to be huge at this rate, a perfect size. Everything about him or her is going to be perfect, just like their mummy…' You want to remind him that the baby almost certainly has a far from perfect paternity, but you bite your tongue for now; you're certain that fact hasn't left his mind anyway.

You are about to tease him and say that you don't know if you can squeeze out a huge baby, when you finally have a visitor; just not one you're expecting. It's seems to be a child, and a butler clad in black…

Hang on, isn't that…?

Your recognition must show, because the boy smirks at you. 'It seems you took my recommendation a bit far. I can't imagine why, but it's irrelevant I suppose. This is the woman who's causing you so much trouble, Undertaker?' Oh shit, it really is! It's the little boy from the shop! The one that first sent you here months ago! Why is he here?!

Undertaker wraps his arms around you possessively, grinning wildly. 'She's not caused me any trouble at all. Far from it really. It's her bothersome ex-husband I need assistance with.' So they're acquainted for sure then? But how would Undertaker know a wealthy child? You assume he's wealthy, judging by the butler.

Said butler bows slightly, a ghost of a smile on his lips. 'Apologies for my young master's greeting. I fear he was surprised that the four of us are all already acquainted. My young master is the Earl Phantomhive, and I am his faithful butler Sebastian. You are the former Lady Scottington I take it?' You nod, taken aback by both the butler's greeting and his piercing gaze. 'Excellent. Well, regretful really. Your former husband is a most unsavoury gentleman indeed. At least your taste has… marginally improved.' You'd hardly call this improvement marginal; compared to James, it's like relaxing in a meadow of flowers rather than atop a dung heap.

Still, you remain polite; you needn't upset potential allies. 'I take it you care for James about as much as I do then? What did he do to inspire such a reaction, if I may ask?' You can think of an entire list of things he could have done, but you'll be interested to hear the exact reason.

The young Earl sneers. 'Other than the comments he made in regards to both my betrothed and a member of my staff, it was his totally lack of interest in the very thing I summoned him to discuss that really bothered me. I asked him there because I wanted information on his planned merger with another company. Instead, all I received from him were the patronising ramblings of a man trying to convince me that my most reliable informant is more interested in corpses than perhaps he should be.' Informant? Undertaker?! Since when?

Undertaker gently coaxes you off of his lap so he can stand. Eyeing your confusion, he gently grabs your hands. 'I've worked for the young earl's family for quite some time. He acts on behalf of the queen, and often needs information pertaining to my guests. So I give it to him, for a price of course.' You look between the boy and the butler, confused. A young Earl is the last person you'd expect to hold such a position, but if Undertaker trusts him…

You smile at him, trying not to look insincere. 'I take it the price this time is your assistance?' It would make sense. A favour for a favour is often the way things like this work.

The butler raises a hand in protest. 'Oh no, dear lady. This is completely without charge. You see, the fall of Scottington's company would benefit my young master greatly. However, the destruction of said company is a tricky affair, one we can't hope to accomplish without information. So, this is less of a payment, and more of a mutual arrangement.' That makes sense. You'd be willing to give them any information they want, so long as it removes James from your life.

So you nod. 'I know my former husband fairly well. I'd be happy to help in any way that I can.'

The butler smirks. 'In that case, tell us how he treats the women in his life. After all, the man is to be wed again soon; would be a shame if his new wife wasn't informed ahead of time the kind of man she's marrying.' Oh, but if only everyone knew what James does to women.

Undertaker squeezes your hands comfortingly. 'You don't have to go into details, my love. Just the basics will suffice, if that's all you can manage. Don't trouble yourself with memories of him if it's too much.' It's always going to be too much; that's why you can't let it happen again.

You swallow hard, trying to think of the right words. 'James… he's a monster. No woman that's ever entered his household has left unmolested. He's a rapist, and a bully, and all he cares about is producing an heir. He would drag me back to his house purely because he believes me to be carrying his child, and he would offer me to anyone with coin to spare while he waited. He fails to see women as human beings at all, and he would break his new wife completely. I'm uncertain if she would even leave his household alive. He's as depraved as he is deplorable, and he needs to be stopped, before he kills all three of us.' You hold onto Undertaker's hands desperately tight, as if trying to stop him from fading.

The Earl smirks. 'You're to be a father, Undertaker? You have my sympathies. This situation isn't exactly an idea environment for a child. Are you quite certain it's even yours?' Oh great, now even he's questioning it?

Undertaker smiles proudly, dropping his hold on your hands so he can wrap an arm around you. 'Of course I am. After all, I'm the man that is going to raise him or her. I'm the only father they'll ever know, regardless of if I'm the one that created them. True fatherhood isn't about making the child; it's about everything that comes after.' A stray tear flows from your eyes, and you lean in to kiss him on the cheek.

Sebastian rolls his eyes. 'Charming. Well, I think the logical first step in ruining James will be to remove the possibility of remarriage. I shall investigate the former members of his household staff, to see if I can get them to stand by your claims. When all statements are gathered, the young Earl and I shall pay a visit to James' would-be father-in-law. If our warnings fall on deaf ears, we'll just have to offer him a better deal than the one he'd receive by allying himself with James. Once that engagement is dissolved, I'll be sure to make his crimes a matter of public knowledge. I'll also let it be known that any rumours pertaining to you being a necrophile, Undertaker, are little more than the result of James' rampant jealousy. You are planning to wed his ex-wife, after all; people may be unbelievably slow at times, but there's no one who would dare argue with such solid reasoning.' The butler makes a fair point. Still, how does he know Undertaker intends to propose?

Humming, Undertaker nods. 'Indeed. However, if you say that, it may tarnish the reputation of the woman I love, and I'd rather avoid that if possible. I don't really care what people say about me, but I want her kept out of it as much as possible.' As sweet as his intention it, it infuriates you. Why is he the only one that should suffer?

You shake your head. 'No. I don't want people to think that of you. I'm comfortable with the choice that I made, and I don't think there's a single woman in a position similar to the one I was in that wouldn't have at least considered the same. When it all comes out, people will know what I suffered at that monster's hand. For now, I'll take any disgrace that I have to. As long as you're okay with standing by me, then let the world think whatever it wants. It's not as if I've been stolen away in the night by a demon on anything.' For a moment, you're sure you notice Undertaker flinch, but it's so sudden you can't be certain.

Sebastian chuckles. 'I assure you, there are far worse things in the world than being stolen away by a demon. I'm sure you and your new partner will discuss them at length in time, but for now, I believe my Young Master has other matters to attend to.' He bows politely at the waist, and you incline your head towards him. His words have you shaken though. What a curious thing to say…

The young earl smirks, before producing something out of his pocket; a small velvet box, the kind you'd expect to find in a jewel-

Ah. So that's how they know of Undertaker's intentions, at least.

Smiling, Undertaker puts the box in a pocket of his own. 'Sorry to have you run an errand for me. Naturally, your next visit is without charge. I have little need of laughter these days; I've plenty of light in my life now.' You'd hardly say your presence here has brought him light; if anything, you've made his life harder, piling on responsibilities he never had before. That he sees you as anything less than a burden is more than you could have ever hoped for. If it was the other way around, and you'd left Undertaker for James, you don't even want to know what he'd have done to you.

Without further comment, the Earl turns on his heel and leaves, his butler following dutifully behind him.

You really want to curl right back up onto Undertaker's lap, but he seems… tense. Perhaps the conversation touched a greater nerve than he let on?

Before you can so much as hug him, Undertaker walks straight past you, and locks the door, shutting the shop for the day. That's odd. He never closes this early. You know that today has been slow, but this is so unlike him. Does he plan to propose here and now?

When he's sure it's locked up, Undertaker throws his hat away, before pushing his bangs to the side; he really doesn't expect company if he's doing that.

His face however is lacking his trademark grin, and it makes something drop in the pit of your stomach, a feeling only intensified by his words. 'Sebastian is right. There's something I have to tell you. Something I've been dreading since the moment I fell in love with you. I've been telling myself over and over that it doesn't matter, that you never need to know. But I can't do it. I can't lie to you anymore. Even if you hate me for this, it's better than loving a lie. No matter what you think of me, my feelings for you remain unchanged. I'm not the kind of man that would throw you to the wolves just because I can't have you. I promised to give you money if you wanted to escape, and I stand by that. Anything for you. I just want you both to be safe, I-' You stop him by rushing over to him and placing your fingers over his lips.

Talking a deep breath, you try to keep your emotions even. 'You're scaring me. Whatever it is, please just tell me. Are you… you don't really do that to the corpses right?' Technically, you've never watched him work on them, so…

Undertaker's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and he gently pushes your hand away. 'Of course I don't! Why would I mess around with them when I have a beautiful woman in my bed? I know we've not been overly-physically lately l, but that's because you're carrying our child. I still get to hold you, to feel your warmth curled up next to me. So warm, and soft…' he delicately strokes your hair, a smile finally gracing his features. 'I've never known a greater feeling. I cherish it above anything else. That's why it's so hard for me, knowing that I could destroy that with a single lie of omission. Perhaps… perhaps you'd let me hold you one last time? Just so I don't forget the feeling…' You hate this. Hate hearing the sadness in his voice. He's been so strong, so determined to protect you at all costs. Why has he change now?

Whatever his secret is, it must be beyond horrible.

Taking his hands in yours, you squeeze them tight, trying to steady your nerves. 'Unless you're trying to tell me that you've been the James to some other poor woman, there's nothing you can tell me that's going to send me running. You swore to me that we were in this together. You begged me not to give up your baby. You told me you'd marry me. Was all of that a lie?' You feel your heart ache. If he tells you that you're right…

In silence, Undertaker leads you to the bedroom. Your legs begin to tremble, both from the frailty of your condition, and the nerves. Why hasn't he answered you? Are you truly right?

Sitting you down gently on the bed, Undertaker kneels before you, as if to humble himself. 'You have my word that I've never forced myself on anyone. The only lover I've had in recent memory besides you gave herself to me willingly. There was a complication however, and I… I hardly know where to begin. It's going to be hard to believe a single word that I say, but please try. I swear on the life of our child- of my child- that I'd never lie about something like this.' You wonder what could be so unbelievable that he'd wager the life of the child he's fought so hard to keep in his life. You think back the that butler, to what he said, and you swear you feel ice shoot down your spine;

'… There are far worse things in the world than being stolen away by a demon.'

Undertaker's eyes widen, and you realise you said that out loud. The shock on his face speaks volumes, and you feel all the blood drain from your body.

You barely manage to stutter the word out. 'D-demon. You're… demon?' He can't be. No. There's no way… a demon would have never shown you such kindness. They act with only their own ambitions in mind, never caring for humans. Then again, it is said that all demons were once angels…

To your immediate relief, Undertaker shakes his head slowly. 'Sebastian is the demon. I'm nothing like his ilk, I swear. I have only compassion for humanity, although I must confess… I'm not human, my love. I was once. Centuries ago. Long before you were born. Long before any human alive today was. For reasons I don't want to put upon you right now, I committed suicide. My… transgression, as it was later called, led to my rebirth as… I'm not sure which phrase is best to use.' You're glad you're sitting down for this. If any of this is true, and you're inclined to believe him as you have been all along, then what…?

You shake your head, as if willing your thoughts to flee. 'Not a demon, but not human. An angel then?' That much you would be willing to believe. He's acted like one towards you, at the very least. Yet he didn't have an issue wrestling James to the table the other day. That, and you've heard tales of angels falling from heaven after falling for mortal women. It's paradoxical; if he's in love with you, he can't possibly be an angel without making himself a demon.

Undertaker hums. 'Not in the way you're thinking. I'd describe us as angels of death perhaps. We are the reapers, and our soul purpose in death is to harvest the souls of humans after theirs.' A reaper? Like the grim reaper? A hooded figure with a gleaming scythe, carrying souls into the night? That can't be… he doesn't look like death. He doesn't feel like death. Death only exists inside his shop, not inside his soul. At least that's what you've always assumed.

But now? You don't know what to think.

You scan his eyes, looking for any kind that this is all own huge joke, but you see only sincerity. The longer you look, the more you realise something; you've never seen anyone with eyes like his. Two different loops of colour around his pupils in place of one… You almost feel foolish for never questioning it before.

The silence in the room must be unbearable to Undertaker, because he himself is the one to break it. 'Please believe me. This isn't me trying to get a cheap laugh out of you. I'm not mocking you in any way. I know that this is an impossible thing to believe, and had life for us continued the way we thought it would when you first agreed to come to me, I never would have said a word. This truth… it has cost me in the past. I never thought I would get a second chance at the life I missed out on, but somehow, I found something even better. I also think it only fair that you understand that if I really am the one who fathered the child, he or she won't be fully human. They won't be a reaper either, but they'll be special. That's one of the reasons I've been downplaying my feelings over the paternity; at least James could have only fathered a human child with you.' Your head is finally starting to clear away after the initial shock, but in its place, there's a seemingly endless amount of questions.

Trying not to fall back into a panic, you decide how is as good a time as any to ask at least one of them. 'If you're a reaper, can you even have a child with a human woman?' He said he was human once, but he also just said he was technically dead; which is it?

To your great surprise, Undertaker starts to cry. 'Yes. It's possible, I swear. I never would have said there was a chance if…' he tries to steady his breathing, but it's fast becoming erratic; he's moments away from a breakdown, you can feel it.

So you reach out, and place a hand upon his head.

He looks up at you, confusion shining through the sadness. So you smile softly. 'So If we wanted more in the future, it shouldn't be an issue?' Talking about it now seems foolish, but it should calm him down. Besides, your own heart seems to have finally settled in on a decision.

Undertaker shakes his head. 'No more than it would be if I was still human. But why would you want more, knowing that they'll be guaranteed reaper blood?' Has he not figured it out? For such a smart man, he's being a little stupid right now…

You smile at him, a warm smile that immediately puts a spark of hope in his eyes. 'It doesn't matter to me what they are, as long as they're half you.

'I won't like to you and say that any of this is easy to take in. It's going to take me a long time to fully be at ease with this. Having said that, I don't know that I care. I love you. Knowing this about you doesn't mean you'll be a different man to the one that stole my heart with a kiss. You'll always be that man to me, no matter what. So stop being so stupid and give me that ring.' You probably shouldn't sound so bossy right now, but you can't help it; you need him back to his normal self before his sadness takes hold.

Undertaker looks like he's about to collapse, his hands shaking as they once again hold yours. 'You'll never regret this. Never. I will make you so happy, there's never going to be a day when I'm not right here beside you, willing to do anything just to see you smile. To look me in the eyes and tell me that you love me despite the one thing that should have driven you away is the single greatest gift you'll ever give me, and I'd love to give you the ring right this second. However, I believe I told you I was going to do something special. So if I could ask you to wait for me just a few days more, as a final favour, I would fall at your feet in gratitude.' Does he not realise that he's already literally at your feet? Such a strange man…

… you can't wait to spend your life with him.

Letting go of his hands, you pat the bed beside you. 'I don't want you on your knees; I want you by my side.' He moves like lighting, taking his seat next to you before cupping your head and bringing your face against his, your lips locking in an instant.

As you weave your hands into his impossibly long hair, you find yourself still unconvinced that he's not an angel.


	12. An Important Guest

While you may have initially taken Undertaker's shocking revelation well, the reality of life as you know it has been playing heavily on your mind the last few days.

The concept of angel, demons, and reaper isn't one you'd ever thought of as more than a fantasy. At best, you'd considered it a metaphor, about the ways that human beings influence the lives of the people around them. That this concept is so literally…

You're not ashamed to admit you've been wondering a lot of things since you found out that the man you love, the potential father of your child, was one such being.

How old is he, exactly? When and where was he born? What was life like for him as a human? What events surrounded his rebirth? Has he ever taken a wife before? What about children? How does he know for certain that humans and reapers can have them? What complication led to his previous relationship falling apart? How long ago was said relationship? Does he love her still? There's an endless stream of questions threatening to come out at any moment!

It's just irritating that your mouth is otherwise occupied.

There seems to be no sign of your sickness abating, and it's taking its toll on your health in general.

It's as if you're constantly too weak to function. Eating has become almost impossible to accomplish. Most of the foods you used to love smell so potent it makes you nauseous, and on the off-chance you manage to eat food that doesn't make you want to instantly throw up, you end up throwing it up anyway a short time later. It's become a delicate game of figuring out what you can eat and how much of it before your stomach empties itself and you're back to square one.

The constant vomiting has left you feeling weak, to the point where bedrest is about the only thing that you can do. Even walking to the bathroom to throw up has become difficult, to the point where there's now a chamber pot in the bedroom that's constantly full of something from your body.

Much like the vomit you're currently filling it with.

The moment the hurling begins, the door opens, a concerned Undertaker comes rushing in, bunching up your hair with one hand and rubbing your back with the other.

Through the vomiting, you can hear Undertaker whispering gentle words in your ear. 'It's okay, not much more, just get it out.' You'd love to snap and tell him that he should try throwing up several times a day everyday, but you couldn't bring yourself to do so, especially not after everything he's done.

If you were still with James, you'd have been lucky to even had a chamberpot. If you'd failed to make it to the 'proper facilities', you'd have been forced to clean it up, to learn from your mistakes. He would have criticised you relentlessly, telling you how you'd failed motherhood before the baby was even born by allowing yourself to become so totally at the mercy of your sickness. Oh, and of course you'd still have to perform your marital duties on top of everything else, even if it took up all the energy you had; it wouldn't have mattered to James if the strain of a troubled pregnancy resulted in your death, just as long as you managed to keep the child alive.

The treatment Undertaker has given you couldn't have been more different. He's made sure you're resting as much as you need to, going so far as to constantly flit between his shop and his bedroom to make sure you're well. He's been making careful notes on foods that do or do not affect your stomach, as well as a list of foods to avoid because of their strong smell or unsavoury appearance. If he hears you throwing up, he runs to you as he just has, holding back your hair and trying to comfort you. He tells you everyday that you're the most amazing woman for coping with such difficulties, that your child is so blessed to have a mother that would endure so much for them. He's even been taking and emptying the chamber pot each day, and cleaning up any accidents that have occurred the few times your body betrayed you before you could make it (you've unfortunately already lost one sheet to projectile vomit).

When you finally choke out the last bit of vomit, Undertaker helps you to your feet, gently assisting you back into bed. He wipes a small speck of vomit from your mouth with a handkerchief before kissing your forehead. 'I'm so sorry you have to endure this for us. I would take your sickness for myself if I could. It's unfair that you are the only one suffering for our family…' You're not sure you are; you swear your lover is going to end up with permanent frown lines.

You try to smile, but it's a little weak. 'It's going to be worth it when our baby gets here.' If James… you don't want to think about that.

Undertaker grabs and squeezes your hands softly. 'You're both safe with me. I won't let anything happen to either of you, I promise. This sickness can't last forever, but while it does, I'm going to take care of you. Whatever it takes.

'Which reminds me; I have a few thing for you to try. Wait right… well, I'll be right back.' The faintest blush graces his cheeks, and it warms your heart in a way; so embarrassed over such a small misspeaking.

When Undertaker returns, it's with a tray of food, which he balances on your lap. 'Alright then, so today we have a chicken sandwich. It's the least offensive meat I could think of, and the bread should hide any lingering smell. I thought you might also like to try a glass of milk if you can. I know water might be best, but it's a little more filling for you. Just take little sips and see if you can keep it down.' You're scared that you can't, but you're willing to try; anything that might help.

You hesitantly take a sip of milk, trying not to overthink it. You manage to get it down without immediately spitting it back out, better progress than you've made in days.

Undertaker seems relived. 'I'll leave to eat then, my sweet. I'm hoping to have a very important guest today, so I need to make sure the shop is displayed appropriately. If you're feeling up to it, maybe you'd consider helping me a little this afternoon? If all goes well, this guest will set me up for life.' That's a relief; at least you don't have to worry about how he's going to care for you all.

Placing the drink back down, you pick up part of your sandwich, giving it an experimental snuff; bland. Perfect.

With a promise that you'll join him if you can, Undertaker leaves the room, and you silently hope he won't have to rush back here.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

After waking up from your post-breakfast nap, you feel surprisingly few waves of nausea.

Then you sit up, and that familiar feeling washes over you again.

You're about to attempt a swift trip to the kitchen to try and find some water to help settle things, only to notice a fresh glass next to the bed; Undertaker must have come to check on you at some point.

Feeling grateful once again for your fantastic choice in lover, you take a few small sips of water, trying to Will the sickness away. This might be the longest you've gone without vomiting during daylight hours; you need to keep this up if you can.

When you finally feel like you have it under control, you leave bed, determined to make use of the toilet while you have the strength to do so. It must be nearly lunch by now, so if you dress after visiting the bathroom, you'll be able to help Undertaker for a while; you just hope it won't involve much moving around.

Once you're done in the bathroom, you're about to do just as you'd planed, but a voice stops you. 'My love, can you come here a moment? I need you to help me with something.' Oh dear, it must be later than you'd thought! This is bad. While a full-length nightgown hides your flesh, it does nothing to hide the indecency of letting strangers see you in it!

Concerned for your modesty, you try your best to speak loud enough to be heard. 'I'm not decent, my love. Give me a moment to change and I'll be happy to help.' It seems a reasonable request really; you just hope he sees it that way.

Undertaker giggles loud enough for you to hear him. 'It's just us, my love. I have a final piece that I need to compete this scene, and I need you to help place it.' Great; it's a manual job, then? And after how tenderly he's treated you…

Crossing your fingers that it won't be anything too horrendous, you head into the shop, only to gasp.

Every coffin in the shop has a rose or two tucked between the body and lid. The shop is totally silent, with not even London's many crowds managing to come through to doors. Even the shop itself seems to smell less… musky than usual.

Undertaker is stood in the middle of it all, with his hair swept back neatly, his face sporting the most hesitant smile you've ever seen him give.

You open your mouth to ask what this is all about, but he beats you to talking. 'There she is. The guest that's going to set me up for life. If I'd only known that the first time you'd visited, I might have done more to get us to this part sooner.

'I had so desperately wanted to give you a proposal ripped straight from the pages of a fairytale. I would have taken you to a most wonderful garden, filled with colours and light and sound. I would have watched the bees and the butterflies dance amidst the blooms with you, my own heart fluttering faster than the wings of any insect. We would have bathed ourselves in the gentle sun of springtime, and I would have called down on one knee just as the birds sang their evening chorus, the setting sun reflected in your eyes, tears of joy sparking as you promised yourself to me. That I cannot give you that makes me feel even less worthy of the love that you show me each and every day.

'However, there are things I can give you. I can protect you, care for you, cherish you. I can support our family, and I can stop anyone who would think to harm us. I can be a loving husband, and I shall do my best to be a doting father. You'll never grow hungry, and you'll never be cold, and I'll do anything I can to see you through sickness. While I am not the first man to come before you seeking marriage, I will treat you as you deserve, how you truly deserve, and do everything I can to make sure I am the last one to get on one knee before you.' Falling to one knee, Undertaker produces a familiar box from his robes, opening it for the first time.

While the ring seems simple at a glance, with a single small diamond as a center focus, the flowers that are engraved on the metal surrounding it look anything but, and it makes your heart melt; it's perfect.

You begin to cry as Undertaker offers the ring to you, a few tears of his own threatening to spill over. 'Your love for me has always been unconditional. I know that our relationship has not had a smooth start, but no matter what, we can take anything we are dealt if we are together. That is why I would like you to be my wife. Will you marry me?' You could fall to your knees and sob in his arms right now; even knowing his intentions has done nothing to ruin this moment for you.

You shakily nod your head. 'Y-yes. I will!' Your voice is quiet and broken, but the man before you hears you well enough; he has you wrapped in his comforting embrace before you even realise he's moved.

Undertaker is content to let you cry your happy tears into his shoulder before he pulls away slightly, taking your left hand and placing it between you. 'May I have the honour of placing the ring on my betrothed?' You have to nod alone this time, your voice completely lost. You don't know how anything could make this moment better.

As you watch Undertaker slide the ring onto your finger, a familiar smell wafts past your noice; it's the velvet from the ring box. It's normally not a particularly offence smell, but with your nausea…

The second the ring is secure on your finger, you vomit all down Undertaker's robes.

Once the seal is broken, you can stop throwing up, emptying the little food that is in your stomach; you only hope you managed to absorb some goodness before covering the man asking you to marry him in sick.

When you start to dry heave from having nothing left in your stomach, you start sobbing, the shame of ruining a perfect moment hitting you full force. You'd do anything to just disappear right now, just so you don't have to see just how angry Undertaker is.

Finally, the heaving stops, and you have to fight a gasp when you feel a familiar softness against your mouth; it's Undertaker's handkerchief again.

Looking up at him, you see none of the rage you feared; only the concern you've come to expect. 'I'm so sorry. I should have been more careful with the smells in here. Was it the roses?' You shake your head. 'The ring box?' You nod. 'I see. I shouldn't have overlooked that. After all it must have taken you to keep your food down…' He places a hand over your abdomen, staring at the small bump there. 'Please forget that I said this, but I hope I am the one who created you. If it is James that is your father, he has inflicted yet more suffering on the woman I love, and I'm far too petty to ignore it, even if you'll always be mine no matter what. But don't you worry, my little one. I'll care for mummy as much as I have to. The three of us will have a life together, and I'll make it the best life you could ask for.' He looks like he plans to kiss the bump, before he remembers the state he's in.

Pulling back, Undertaker shrugs his robes off easily, letting them fall to the floor before wrinkling his nose up. 'I think I'd like a bath now. Why don't you head back to bed? I'd change your nightie though, just in case. I'll bring you a little food once I'm done. Little and often seems to work, so we'll just keep trying, okay? Things will be okay, I promise you.' You're not so sure they will; if you can't eat enough to keep even yourself well, what does this mean for the baby?

Deflated, you head back to bed, your eyes drawn to the ring on your finger. The things Undertaker said, the promises he makes… he's always so certain. Maybe you should try to hope, even if it is a small hope. It has to be better than living in misery.

Besides, today is a wonderful day; today, the only man you've ever truly loved has asked you to marry him official.

For now at least, you'll try to focus on the positives.

Until the nausea hits again.


End file.
